


Even Darkness Must Pass

by Galasriniel_Beriadanwen



Series: A New Day will Come [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Can be read as a standalone work!, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Kili and Fili live, King and Queen Under the Mountain, Married Life, POV Original Female Character, POV Thorin, Quest of Erebor, Rating will go up to M as of Chapter 10, Romance, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Thorin's Queen joins the Company on their quest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 129,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galasriniel_Beriadanwen/pseuds/Galasriniel_Beriadanwen
Summary: Not for the first time, Thorin cursed Smaug for bringing chaos, death, and danger into his life. Retaking Erebor would not erase painful memories of the past, nor would slaying Smaug, but at least destroying the dragon could pave the way to a more secure future. If there was a chance that his children could live in a world free from the fear of dragon fire, a world in which Erebor and Dale were restored to their former glory, Thorin was willing to fight to the death to make that happen.King Thorin Oakenshield and Queen Alaisia restored prosperity to their people by revitalizing the abandoned kingdom of Dvergatal in the Blue Mountains. However, the memory of the firestorm that ravaged their homeland lingers in their minds, and both Dwarves yearn to return to the home that they were forced to flee. When Gandalf shares his concerns that the evil Necromancer and his Orc army might seek an alliance with Smaug, Thorin and Alaisia gather a company of Dwarves to reclaim Erebor.Sequel to A Journey of Light and Shadow; takes place immediately before and during The Hobbit.This can definitely be read as a standalone work! There's a recap of a few details from the previous story in the end notes for Chapter 1.
Relationships: Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Thorin Oakenshield/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A New Day will Come [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1294181
Comments: 32
Kudos: 27





	1. A Curious Hobbit (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the summary, this is the sequel to A Journey of Light and Shadow, my slow-burn friends-to-lovers story that brought Thorin and Alaisia together. It isn’t necessary to read the previous story in this series in order to follow along with this one. I did not want to clutter the beginning of the chapter with notes regarding the first story in this series, so I’ve included a quick recap in the end notes for this chapter. Comments, questions, and kudos are always welcome as I'd love to hear if you are enjoying the story!
> 
> As a general disclaimer, I only own my original characters.

**Year 2900 of the Third Age**

**Thorin’s POV**

A soft mist settled in around the rolling hills of Hobbiton as the sun fell in the horizon, causing Thorin Oakenshield to grimace at how irritatingly idyllic The Shire was. Part of him understood that his distaste for the home of the Hobbits was irrational and that his disdain of the Hobbits was unjust, but that understanding did little to quell his aggravation. He knew the reason for his annoyance: the gentle Hobbits had never lost or fled from their home. They had never faced the fiery onslaught of a dragon. Thorin was jealous of the simple life led by the Hobbits, ever filled with farming and peace and plenty, even if his own people now prospered happily in the kingdom of Dvergatal in the Blue Mountains.

His huffed away his discontent, scanning the exterior of the Green Dragon Inn until his eyes found what they sought. Alaisia Glavrem, his golden-haired Queen, was perched happily on the lawn, evidently taking pleasure in observing the merry making of the Hobbits across the water. She was somewhat inexplicably fond of the Shire-folk, even if she shared Thorin’s belief that Hobbits were not well-suited for the types of trials that she and Thorin had faced. Quietly, Thorin approached his wife and planted a swift kiss on her head.

“Thorin! You approached so quietly that you gave me quite the surprise,” Alaisia gasped as Thorin claimed a place on the grass beside her.

Thorin smirked mischievously. “My apologies, my love. What is all of the fuss over there about?” He asked, gesturing vaguely at the raucous Hobbits.

“Some Hobbit children ran by clamoring with excitement about the birthday party of a fellow named The Old Took. I could make out very little of what they said, but I did catch the word ‘fireworks’. I have not seen any fireworks since my childhood in Dale, so I decided to sit out here and watch them.” Alaisia laced her hand with Thorin’s, running her thumb tenderly over the back of his hand. “Will you join me?”

Thorin might not care much for Hobbits, but he grudgingly admitted that fireworks _did_ interest him. Erebor never put on fireworks displays in Thorin’s youth, but he fondly remembered gathering with his kin on one of Erebor’s balconies to watch fireworks explode in the sky over Dale.

“Aye,” Thorin replied, “I will stay and watch. We should not linger too late, though—we must get an early start in the morning if we wish to make good time to Bree with our trading caravan.”

Neither Thorin nor Alaisia technically needed to partake in trading ventures anymore as King and Queen, but both felt an obligation to do so to help support the welfare of their people. They were both ill-suited for dwelling idly in a throne room while their people toiled. Dis was more than capable as a ruler, so Thorin felt at ease leaving the kingdom in his sister’s hands when he and Alaisia were both away.

Thorin smiled as Alaisia shifted to lean against him. He gently looped an arm around her and tugged her closer, eliciting a small sigh of contentment. Much to Thorin’s chagrin, their brief peace was quickly disturbed by the sound of a small, rambunctious Hobbit child approaching with his mother.

“Tell me more about the Elves in the woods, Mama!” The little Hobbit eagerly demanded.

“Well, they wander through the woods outside of Hobbiton every so often clad in shimmering cloaks. They sing songs so lovely that it is said birds cease their own singing to listen,” his mother explained.

Thorin rolled his eyes at the Hobbit woman’s last sentence, for it was _clearly_ a gross exaggeration, but as he glanced down at Alaisia, he saw that the corners of her mouth had tugged up into a wistful smile. It was an expression that Thorin recognized all too well.

He and Alaisia sought to have children once, only for Alaisia to have a traumatic miscarriage when Thorin returned home after having been severely injured during an attack on his trading caravan. The same attack claimed the life of his brother-in-law Drayli, father to Thorin’s beloved nephews Fili and Kili. For years, Alaisia and Thorin decided to not try again for children, fearing another miscarriage and the associated risk to Alaisia’s health. They raised Fili to be the heir to the throne in the event that they never had children.

However, as time progressed, Thorin began to yearn once more for a child of his own. Alaisia’s own outlook on having a child was subtly shifting. She said nothing, but Thorin knew his wife well enough to read her emotions without direct discussion, and the wistful expression Alaisia wore whenever she saw a mother and small child together was evidence enough for Thorin.

Still, Thorin tried to not let too much hope swell within him, and he did not press Alaisia to make a decision. If Alaisia was never ready to try to have children again, Thorin would still be satisfied as long as she was alive, healthy, and at his side.

Thorin was torn from his thoughts as the Hobbit child’s voice pierced the air. “Mama, look! There are _Dwarves_ on the bank!” He shouted gleefully.

The crunch of grass beneath the diminutive stampede of a Hobbit child’s hairy feet signaled the little one’s approach before Thorin could even turn his head to look. Alaisia sat upright and nudged Thorin, eyeing him pointedly.

 _Behave yourself, and do not be overly grumpy,_ her stare clearly directed. Thorin grunted noncommittally but tried to school his expression into one of what he hoped was bored neutrality as he looked at the Hobbit.

“Bilbo!” The mother admonished as she hurried after her son, curly hair bouncing against her shoulders as she rushed to him and placed her hands on his shoulders to stop him from running any further. “You know that is not the right way to speak to or approach strangers. Apologize to these two kind Dwarves right this instant.”

“M’sorry,” the small boy, evidently named Bilbo, mumbled.

Alaisia laughed merrily and rose to greet the two Shire-folk. “There is nothing at all to apologize for. I am Alaisia, and this is my husband, Thorin. We are resting with our trading caravan at the Green Dragon Inn before we set out for Bree in the morning.”

With an encouraging look from Alaisia, Thorin stood up, brushing stray blades of grass off of his pants as he did so. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he stiffly intoned.

“Thank you both for being so understanding. My son is at the age where his imagination runs wild, and sometimes his excitement gets ahead of his senses. That’s the Took in him rather than the Baggins, I suppose. I am Belladonna Baggins, formerly Took.”

“Are you related to The Old Took? I overheard some children talking about his birthday celebration. If so, I offer my best wishes for an excellent celebration,” Alaisia said.

“He is my father,” Belladonna answered proudly. She looked down and realized that Bilbo had wormed his way out of her grasp and was careening toward Alaisia and Thorin. Bilbo pointed, a look of wonder spreading across his small face.

“Is that a real sword, Master Thorin?” Bilbo asked eagerly as he pointed to the sword strapped to Thorin’s waist.

 _Why in Mahal’s name would a Hobbit child have any interest in a_ sword _of all things?_ Thorin wondered. Still, he felt it rude to not respond, so he answered as succinctly as possible. “It is. Sometimes we face danger on the trading roads, so my companions and I must arm ourselves.”

Bilbo’s face lit up with glee. “Can I look at it? I’ve only ever seen a few real swords.”

Thorin hesitated at the odd request, causing the young Hobbit to appear crestfallen at the apparent denial. The last thing Thorin wanted was for the child to start swinging the sword around as if it were a plaything, for such an occurrence would likely result in injury to at least one of them. Alaisia lightly elbowed Thorin, prompting him to make up his mind and respond.

“I suppose you can look at it, although it would not be safe for you to hold such a weapon,” Thorin spoke slowly. In spite of himself, he felt a small bit of happiness chip away at his grumpy demeanor when he saw the look of joy his words sparked in Bilbo’s face.

“Thank you for indulging him,” Belladonna graciously said as she tousled her son’s curly hair.

Thorin carefully drew Deathless from its sheath, supporting it between his hands as he held it out for Bilbo to see. “Do not touch it, for though it may be an aged blade now, its edge is still as sharp as a wolf’s tooth,” Thorin warned. Bilbo’s eyes widened at that statement.

“It is a very unique blade—Dwarvish to be sure, but it also has some Elvish features,” Belladonna observed astutely.

“Aye, when I made it for him, I sought to combine those two styles, even if I did favor the Dwarvish style in the end. The blade is forged from Elvish metal—a generous gift from an old friend,” Alaisia answered.

“This sword is amazing,” young Bilbo declared. “Real Elvish metal, right in front of my very eyes!”

“What do you say?” Belladonna prodded.

Bilbo paused for a moment of contemplation before looking up at Thorin and Alaisia. “Thank you!” He said with a small bow that caused Alaisia to giggle. The child turned to his mother next. “Can I have a sword of my own, Mama?”

Belladonna looked a tad flabbergasted at her son’s question for a moment, but she soon gathered her composure. “Er, I suppose _someday_ , but certainly not now. You are far too young, my little one.”

Poor little Bilbo got a bit sniffly then, and Thorin supposed that Belladonna’s vague answer that Bilbo might one day be allowed to have a sword was the only reason the young Hobbit was not in full-blown tears already. It reminded him for a moment of Fee and Kee when they were at the same age—eager to explore the world and frustrated that they were too young to do so.

“I shall return momentarily,” Thorin announced as an idea dawned on him. He ignored Alaisia’s quizzical expression, for offering any explanation ere his return would ruin the surprise. After a quick trip inside the inn and rummaging through the items he brought to sell in Bree, Thorin returned to Alaisia, Belladonna, and Bilbo with a small wooden sword. He beamed at Alaisia’s approving look when he offered the wooden sword to Bilbo.

“Hopefully this will provide some amusement,” Thorin offered. “Even though it is wood, you must be careful with it and promise to not swing it at anyone.”

Bilbo looked up at him for a moment and then handed the sword to his mother. Before Thorin could so much as blink, he felt the tiny Hobbit child hugging him fiercely. Thorin froze for a moment, unsure what to do, and settled on awkwardly patting Bilbo’s head.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said as he stepped back and took the sword from his mother.

“You are quite welcome,” Thorin responded as he looked between Bilbo and Belladonna.

“My son will greatly enjoy this gift. I shall endeavor to do my best to make sure that he uses it only for play, and not to torment his elders,” Belladonna laughed merrily. “We will not take up any more of your time, but both of you are more than welcome to attend the party if you wish. I hope that you have a safe journey to your destination and back home.”

Thorin and Alaisia murmured their thanks as Belladonna and her son strolled away. Bilbo turned back briefly to wave at them, his hand clutching the sword in delight.

“See? Being kind to Hobbits is not so hard,” Alaisia teased her husband before she kissed him on his cheek. “Forgive my jesting. It was very sweet of you to give Bilbo that toy sword. That probably made his day!”

“Belladonna and Bilbo seemed like well-meaning Hobbits. I am glad that I was able to bring some joy to the child. Still, I would advise you against expecting my entire outlook on Hobbits to change. I doubt that Bilbo will ever own a real sword or have occasion to use one,” Thorin judged.

Alaisia rolled her eyes at her husband’s incessant stubbornness, causing him to chuckle. Thorin claimed Alaisia’s lips in a passionate kiss and began to thread his hands through her hair, subtly guiding her closer as he deepened the kiss. He groaned discontentedly when Alaisia drew back.

“What is it, _amralime_?” Thorin asked, his features laced with confusion.

Alaisia worried her lower lip between her teeth, shifting back and forth on her feet for a moment while she tried to formulate her response. Thorin found himself wondering if he had done something or said something to her that caused offense. It was not at all like Alaisia to appear so anxious while speaking to him.

“Oh, sod it!” Alaisia exclaimed breathlessly.

Thorin’s brows shot upward in amusement at Alaisia’s unusual choice of words. Such an expression was something Thorin was much more accustomed to hearing from the oft-crass Dwalin. Before Thorin could say anything, or question precisely _what_ Alaisia was referring to, Alaisia continued speaking.

“I’ve been thinking about this for some time now, although I did not wish to say anything until I was completely certain. I am tired of doubting my decision and of struggling to find the right words to express it. And seeing that precious Hobbit child with his mother…” Alaisia’s voice trailed off as her mind drifted back to the Hobbit duo. “What I’m _trying_ to tell you, Thorin, with very little eloquence is that I am ready to try to have children of our own again.”

Thorin blinked like an owl as Alaisia’s words slowly sunk in.

 _I am ready to try to have children of our own again_.

He had waited so long to hear those words pass through her lips that he felt he must be dreaming, but Alaisia squeezed his hand and broke him from his trance.

“Thorin? Are you quite well?” Alaisia asked with concern.

Joy coursed through Thorin as he considered all of the possibilities the future might hold. Impulsively, he placed his hands on Alaisia’s waist and lifted her up in the air, twirling her around gleefully and earning a melodic laugh in the process. Thorin returned Alaisia to the ground and rested his forehead against hers, nuzzling her softly. “I am better than I have been in a long time, _amralime_ ,” he answered at last.

Alaisia leaned forward and met Thorin’s lips, breaking into a smile once more as she did so. Thorin sighed happily as he brushed a stray lock of hair out of Alaisia’s face. He ghosted his lips over hers once more before tugging her to the grassy slope with him, pulling her close so that they could watch the fireworks together. Many questions filled Thorin’s mind, but one thing Thorin knew for certain: the prospect of a child meant that they must one day reclaim Erebor so that their child could have its birthright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is 10 years old in this chapter. I got the inspiration for this chapter from the flashback in The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey to The Old Took’s party in which a young Bilbo is gleefully assailing poor Gandalf with a wooden sword. Gandalf has Thorin and Alaisia to thank for that :)
> 
> Now, as promised, here is the recap of key points from the previous story:  
> Alaisia Glavrem (my OFC) is Thorin’s wife and Queen. They became friends when she was living in Dale and he was living in Erebor prior to Smaug’s attack. Alaisia is a Dwarf, but she has some Elven ancestry (more detail on that in the previous work in this series). She is not biased against Elves due to her heritage, but she despises Thranduil.
> 
> Thorin and Alaisia’s kingdom in the Blue Mountains is named Dvergatal. They have trading arrangements with the Firebeards, the Broadbeams, the Men of Bree as well as of other neighboring villages, and the Elves of Rivendell. In this AU, for reasons described in A Journey of Light and Shadow, there is no lingering animosity between Thorin or Alaisia and Lord Elrond.
> 
> The epilogue of the previous story featured Thorin and Alaisia having children of their own (twins!), and Fili and Kili meeting those twins. That epilogue takes place in 2917, 17 years after this prologue.
> 
> Azog met his demise at the Battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin killed him and survived the encounter (see chapter 35 of Journey for more on this). Bolg still lives, and his desire for revenge will plague the Company of Thorin Oakenshield…


	2. Whispers of Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin returns home with grim tidings after a chance meeting with Gandalf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eiraisia and Thornar, Thorin and Alaisia's twins, were born in 2917 (in the epilogue of the prequel, A Journey of Light and Shadow). This chapter is set immediately prior to the events of The Hobbit, and forty-one years after the events of the prologue in Chapter 1. From here on out, we'll be in a continuous timeline as we move into the events of The Hobbit!

**January, Year 2941 of the Third Age**

**Alaisia’s POV**

“Father!” Eiraisia and Thornar shouted gleefully as they charged forward to welcome Thorin home from his travels. Weary, but glad to see his twin children, Thorin enveloped both in a warm hug. Alaisia watched the scene unfold fondly. Her son had inherited her wavy golden hair and Thorin’s brooding demeanor, while Alaisia’s daughter bore Thorin’s raven hair and Alaisia’s independent (indeed, sometimes rebellious) spirit. Both children, unfortunately, were _immensely_ stubborn at times, though Alaisia supposed with wry amusement that was inescapable given how stubborn both she and Thorin were.

“I missed you both dearly. Have you been behaving for your mother in my absence?” Thorin asked.

“Of course!” Eiraisia declared. “ _Amad_ has been continuing our lessons in sword-fighting and archery.”

“Fili and Kili have been helping out with our training too,” Thornar added.

“The twins have been wearing me out with their eagerness to learn more about the art of combat,” Alaisia replied with a slight chuckle as she ruffled her children’s hair lovingly. “I am happy to report that both are making excellent progress.”

Thornar and Eiraisia reluctantly stepped out of their father’s embrace to allow their mother in. Alaisia wrapped her arms around Thorin, pulling him close, and kissed him lovingly. She was fairly certain that at least _one_ of her two children would make a face at her display of affection with Thorin, but at the moment she did not care as Thorin had been away for three long months.

“It is good to see you again. I missed you, my love,” Alaisia whispered against Thorin’s ear.

“I missed you too, _kurdunuh_ ,” he murmured as he brushed his lips over Alaisia’s cheek. “We have much to discuss from my travels.”

Alaisia drew back to study her husband’s face carefully. “Did you find any sign of Thrain?” she asked with some trepidation. Thrain had been missing ever since the Battle of Azanulbizar that concluded the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs. No corpse was ever found, leaving Thorin to wonder at his father’s fate and why he might have fled if he did not perish. Rumors of potential sightings of Thrain from Bree to Rhovanion swirled over the years, but none had proven fruitful thus far.

“None,” Thorin muttered grimly. “We can talk more in our chambers later,” he added, glancing concernedly at their two children.

Understanding that whatever news Thorin bore was not something he wished for their twins to hear, at least not yet, Alaisia nodded slightly and redirected the conversation. “You must be eager for supper after a long journey. Dis prepared a welcome dinner for you after we received your letter.”

At the mention of food, Thorin’s stomach grumbled slightly. “Aye, it would seem that I am ready for food,” he answered sheepishly. “Although I do hope that Fili and Kili were not assisting Dis in preparing dinner...”

“Fear not—Fili and Kili have not been allowed anywhere _near_ the kitchen since the two of them burned a cake to a crisp and nearly set the kitchen on fire last year,” Alaisia wryly said as she tugged on her husband’s arm to lead him to dinner.

“It certainly did not help that they were attempting to do so after consuming four pints of ale apiece,” Thorin added with a chuckle.

* * *

After dinner, Alaisia and Thorin retreated to their chambers to discuss Thorin’s travels. Alaisia softly shut the door behind them. She turned to Thorin and gently rested her head against his chest, allowing herself to be soothed by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his tunic as he tenderly stroked her hair.

“You always fear that I will not return,” Thorin stated rather than asked.

“And I am always relieved when you do,” Alaisia whispered into Thorin’s chest. “I know that the attack on your and Drayli’s trading caravan was many years ago now, but the memory still feels fresh in my mind every time you depart. You were in such dire condition when you came back to me...I was afraid that I would lose you, just as Dis lost Drayli.”

“I understand.” Thorin sighed as he pressed a delicate kiss to Alaisia’s forehead. “I am sorry that my journey kept me away for longer than we initially planned.” He brushed his fingers over the crown that Alaisia wore, a simple silver one that resembled flowering branches, before cupping her cheek in his hand. “You are a fine Queen, my love. When I am away, I never have to fret over the well-being of our people.”

In spite of herself, Alaisia found herself blushing softly at Thorin’s praise. She was initially afraid of the prospect of becoming Queen, for it was a station that she never dreamed she might rise to and one that she feared she was utterly unqualified for. Indeed, Alaisia did not even particularly _want_ to be Queen when she was crowned, but it was an inherent responsibility in marrying Thorin, so she rose to the challenge. Years later, Alaisia found herself generally enjoying her role as Queen. She was able to look after the needs of the common folk, and it did not mean giving up her passions for blacksmithing, archery, and swordplay as she once feared it might. 

Both Alaisia and Thorin remained haunted by the past, however. Memories of Smaug’s assault, and the struggles of their years in exile before they settled in Dvergatal in the Blue Mountains, never lingered far from their thoughts. Granted, the Longbeards were prosperous now, but the past proved that prosperity was never guaranteed to last forever.

 _Chasing away the past has taken its toll on both of us,_ Alaisia mused as she looked upon her husband’s hair. It was once nearly solid black akin to the color of a raven’s feather, but the intervening years had spurred streaks of silver to thread their way through Thorin’s hair.

A labored sigh escaped Thorin’s parted lips. “We should sit down, for there is much to consider.”

The pair made their way over to the large, plush bed that they shared and nestled in under the covers, using pillows to prop themselves up. Alaisia snuggled into Thorin’s side and absentmindedly began trailing her fingers over his chest.

“Where did you search for Thrain?” she asked.

“Many places. The rumors were very vague, speaking only of a Dwarf matching my father’s description wandering in Dunland. I started my search in Tharbad instead in case he had somehow found his way there and then journeyed to the ruins of our old settlement in Dunland. Having no luck there either, I set out to explore the foothills of the Misty Mountains along the route we took to Azanulbizar. Nowhere did I find any sign of his presence.” Thorin’s voice began to crack with his last sentence, but he steeled himself and shed no tears. A dark shadow of despondence cloaked Thorin’s silvery blue eyes.

Alaisia’s heart fell on seeing Thorin’s despair. “I am so sorry, my love. I really hoped that you might find him this time...” Alaisia whispered sorrowfully as she squeezed her husband’s hand in sympathy.

“It may be that I need to accept that my father is dead. Perhaps we did not find his body at Azanulbizar because the Orcs dragged his corpse into the mountain,” Thorin muttered darkly. “Or perhaps he was taken captive and tortured before succumbing to his wounds...”

“You cannot allow your mind to dwell on such ominous thoughts, Thorin. There is nothing that you can do, and I know that is one of the most frustrating aspects of this situation to you, but you have searched _everywhere_ near where we used to live in Dunland many times over. You have done your best. That is all that your father would have wanted.”

“I just wish that he could have met our children,” Thorin hoarsely uttered as a stray tear escaped. “He always wanted to be a grandfather. He adored you and wanted us to be together. I am certain that he would have loved Eiraisia and Thornar dearly, and they him.”

Alaisia wanted to say that there was still hope, that Thrain might one day be found, but in her heart, she was beginning to fear the same as Thorin. “Aye, I was very fond of your father as well. He was an honorable Dwarf.” She said no more of Thrain, for she feared that emotion might overtake her. Thrain had protected her against Thror’s wrath, and he had advocated for her and Thorin to be together even though it defied Thror’s wishes.

They sat in silence for a moment until Thorin spoke again.

“At least the children have one set of grandparents,” Thorin mused as he looked down at Alaisia. “Thila and Morak are wonderful with them.”

“Indeed, at times I fear they spoil them too much,” Alaisia chuckled softly as she shifted to sit up next to Thorin. Her smile faded as she looked at Thorin once more and saw that something other than Thrain must also be weighing on him. “What other news do you bring from your travels?”

“Bree was a logical resting point in my journey home, so I reserved a room at the Prancing Pony Inn for an evening of rest away from the horrid rain that always seems to plague that area. Gandalf sought me out while I was eating dinner.”

That piqued Alaisia’s curiosity. Gandalf, or Tharkun as some of her fellow Dwarves preferred to call him, was a regular visitor when Alaisia and Thorin’s people first settled in Dvergatal. He brought them tidings from other lands and toys for the Dwarflings that ran through the mountain’s halls, but a little over a decade ago his visits had ceased without explanation.

“Gandalf? It has been quite some time since last he visited us here. What did he wish to speak to you about?”

Thorin growled. “Apparently, someone has set a price on my head. There were some ill-mannered humans in the Prancing Pony that Gandalf managed to frighten off by sitting down at my table, and Gandalf showed me a piece of cloth with crude writing that promised payment in return for proof of my death. He obtained that message from the corpse of an Orc that he slew en route to Bree.”

Alaisia clenched her fists. “Does Gandalf have any idea who might be behind this? We must find whoever it is and kill them. Preferably slowly, and painfully. And _you_ must not travel anywhere alone if you have a bloody target on your back! You should have sent for me, or someone else from our kingdom, to accompany you home instead of making the journey alone.”

Thorin shifted to face Alaisia and trailed his hand down her cheek. “I am far too stubborn to call for help _amralime_ , and Gandalf was reasonably certain that I would be safe if I passed through The Shire.”

Suppressing a groan at her beloved’s stubbornness, Alaisia made a mental note to have the mountain guard doubled and waited for her husband to continue. 

“Unfortunately, Gandalf would not say for sure who he thought the culprit might be. Perhaps an evil human or an Orc seeking wealth is behind it. Gandalf did speak of an evil stirring in the southern reaches of the Greenwood, now called Mirkwood by the people of Rhovanion, near the old fortress of Dol Guldur.”

“And you are certain he was not speaking of Thranduil?” Alaisia muttered sarcastically. She had disliked the pointy-eared bastard ever since he called her a beardless mutt, and Thranduil’s refusal to help her people after Smaug’s attack only furthered her contempt for the King of the Woodland Realm.

Thorin barked out a laugh. “That was my thought when Gandalf first told me that darkness was growing in the Greenwood. However, what Gandalf speaks of is far more sinister than an embittered Elf-king. Orcs and Goblins have been seen traveling to the fortress. He thinks that some power is drawing them there.”

“Such as?” Alaisia asked worriedly. Even if she cared little for Thranduil, she did not wish harm on his people.

“He would only speak in riddles, as is his wont,” Thorin said with a huff of frustration. “Apparently there is a being there that the local woodsmen have taken to calling the Necromancer. Whatever the evil power there is, Gandalf is convinced that it is amassing strength to seek an alliance with Smaug.”

A pit opened up in Alaisia’s stomach at the name of the dragon that destroyed Dale and Erebor. “That would be grave indeed,” Alaisia managed after a moment of stunned silence. “Have there been any sightings of Smaug of late?”

“According to Gandalf, no one has seen Smaug in fifty years. Smaug is almost certainly not dead, however, as dragons live for centuries. Gandalf believes that Smaug is probably guarding his hoard—our treasure—under the Mountain.

Alaisia’s face fell into a grim expression as she contemplated the information Thorin imparted. She felt she already knew the answer to the question of what Gandalf wanted of Thorin, but she wanted to hear it confirmed by her husband. “What would Gandalf have us do? Does he wish for us to slay the dragon and reclaim Erebor?”

“Yes,” Thorin nodded, a fiery resolve beginning to burn in his eyes. “He fears that if this Necromancer is able to recruit Smaug and access the wealth under Erebor the consequences could be catastrophic. Erebor occupies a strategic position in the North of Middle-earth, and it would make a far better stronghold than Dol Guldur. It would prove difficult to stave off the advance of an Orc army based in Erebor, but if we can take Erebor back from Smaug first, we would have a strategic position from which to vanquish our foes.”

“I understand the gravity of the situation, but how in Durin’s name does Gandalf expect us to slay the dragon? We had Dwarvish windlances the first time and still failed. If we plan a frontal assault on the gates of Erebor with an army of Dwarves, Smaug will simply burn us all to ashes, and none will be left to destroy the bloody Orcs,” Alaisia angrily muttered.

“If Gandalf is correct, the front gate is not the only way into Erebor,” Thorin murmured as he left the bed and went to retrieve a map and key from his travel pack. He returned to Alaisia’s side in bed, offering the map to her.

“Gandalf gave you this? How did he come by it?” Alaisia asked as she gingerly took the aged map from Thorin.

“He did not say much, only that my father gave it to him in the past at some point before Azanulbizar. According to Gandalf, this map reveals a secret door that my father had added to the kingdom ere its ruin, and the key to finding that door is concealed in _ithildin_ lettering. Gandalf thinks that Elrond might be able to help us decipher it.”

“And the key that you hold is for that door?” Alaisia asked. Some measure of hope swelled within her at the news that there might be another way into the kingdom. Perhaps the element of surprise, combined with an appropriate force of fighters, could allow them a victory against the fiery beast.

“Aye,” Thorin said. “Why Gandalf held on to these items for as long as he did is beyond me. He could have given them to us years ago!”

“Perhaps the time was not right until now. I suppose that, if we were to sneak in through a secret door, with enough Dwarves we could overpower and slay Smaug. Should we go forward with this though? If we fail to defeat Smaug, the fisherfolk of Lake-town are a prime target for the dragon’s wrath,” Alaisia noted, her brow furrowing with concern.

“If we do nothing and Smaug joins forces with the growing darkness in Dol Guldur, the people of Lake-town would likely face the same fate, and we would be hard pressed to ever reclaim Erebor then,” Thorin countered.

“It is a risk that we must take. Gandalf is right,” Alaisia acknowledged somberly.

“Not merely a risk that we must take,” Thorin corrected. “Alaisia, I swore to you years ago that we would one day reclaim Erebor and Dale. I plan to hold true to that promise and this is our best chance to make that dream a reality. Now is our time to return _home_. We are prosperous enough here, but Dvergatal will never truly be home for either of us.”

Alaisia nodded firmly. “I have long dreamed of returning to Dale and restoring it. If Gandalf believes we have a chance at eliminating Smaug, that is enough for me. His judgment has not led us astray thus far. However, our eagerness to return home may not be matched by many. I fear that, given the security and prosperity that our people enjoy here, we may struggle to find Dwarves willing to embark on this journey with us.”

Thorin sighed, his grim demeanor informing Alaisia that he shared her concerns that their fellow Dwarves might not wish to take up arms once more. “We’ll put out a call for volunteers tomorrow. I’ll also send ravens to our allies in the northern ranges of the Blue Mountains and to those who fought with us in the war against the Orcs, summoning them all here for a meeting,” Thorin declared. “Perhaps no one shall heed our call…but we must try.”

“First, we should tell our children and the rest of the family. Eiraisia and Thornar are too young yet to travel on this journey. I fear that they will not take the news well.” The thought of leaving her twins behind, and of not knowing whether she would see them again, sent a pang of panic through Alaisia. As if sensing Alaisia’s distress, Thorin stroked her cheek and kissed her reassuringly.

“It is in part for them that we must do this. I do not want Thornar and Eiraisia to spend their lives in exile, comfortable exile though it may be at this point, and I wish for Thornar to have the throne that is his birthright. We _will_ return to them,” Thorin promised softly as he wrapped an arm around Alaisia. “They are resilient, and we can ask your parents to stay and look after them. They will not be without family in our absence.”

Thorin’s words provided some comfort, and it would not be the first time that they had left the twins at Dvergatal, but Alaisia still dreaded the conversation they must have with Eiraisia and Thornar come dawn. At least the twins would have her parents, Thila and Morak, as well as Dis, who ruled over Dvergatal whenever Thorin and Alaisia were away.

Alaisia nodded and snaked her arms around Thorin’s neck, pulling him in for a searing kiss to distract herself from wandering thoughts about the difficulties the next day would bring. Thorin returned Alaisia’s kiss eagerly, grasping her lower back and clutching her against him.

“We will have a long day tomorrow, but tonight I simply wish to make love to my wife,” Thorin murmured huskily. “I have missed you desperately on my travels, _sanghivasha_.” He nipped lightly at Alaisia’s neck, peppering it with kisses as he began to ease her clothing off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I'd love to hear from you if you are enjoying the story! 
> 
> Here are the translations for the Khuzdul words that appear in this chapter:  
> Amad = mother  
> Amralime = my love  
> Kurdunuh = my heart  
> Sanghivasha = perfect treasure


	3. Tidings of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Alaisia break the news of the impending quest to their twins.

**Thorin’s POV**

Thorin suppressed a groan as he stared up at the cavernous ceiling of the chambers that he and Alaisia shared. _Surely it must at last be near dawn_ , he thought as he gritted his teeth impatiently. In spite of his weariness from his long journey home, Thorin found that sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned for much of the night, struggling in vain to succumb to rest as the prospect of the impending quest kept his mind active. There was so much to be done, so much to plan, and so little time to prepare.

Dreaming seemed a waste of time.

He glanced over at Alaisia. She was snoring lightly, curled into his side and still naked from their earlier lovemaking. _At least my inability to rest has not disturbed her_ , Thorin noted with some relief. At first, Thorin feared that their earlier conversation might spur the return of the nightmares of dragon fire that once plagued Alaisia, but no obvious sign of distress had crossed her features while she slept.

With a heavy sigh, Thorin eased himself quietly from their bed and padded across the plush carpet to dress himself for the day. By the light of the lazily crackling fireplace, Thorin chose a regal blue tunic adorned with silver embroidery along with a pair of black trousers. He splashed cold water from a basin onto his face in an effort to dispel his exhaustion. Soft footfalls on the carpet signaled Alaisia’s approach.

“Good morning, my love. I’m sorry that I woke you,” Thorin murmured huskily as he leaned to kiss Alaisia. He wrapped his arms snugly around her and held her tenderly against his chest. Alaisia sighed happily and lingered in Thorin’s embrace for a few peaceful moments. When she drew back, her face became creased with worry.

“You did not rest at all, I fear,” Alaisia noted as she observed the dark circles looming under Thorin’s eyes. Thorin nodded in silent confirmation of Alaisia’s suspicions. “I do not blame you. While I may have slept, my dreams were filled with thoughts of our journey, and when I awoke my first thought was of how we will tell Eiraisia and Thornar the news.”

“Perhaps we can wait until after breakfast so that they have one more meal with us before they learn what is to come,” Thorin suggested. It would also give him more time to clear the fog of sleeplessness that currently filled his mind.

“Aye, that would be best,” Alaisia assented as she reluctantly shrugged out of Thorin’s arms and walked to her wardrobe. She chose a fitted dark green satin gown with flaring sleeves, unadorned but for a border of emerald beads around the neckline. Alaisia tamed her hair into a single, intricate braid that swung well below her shoulders. Thorin retrieved a small box from his belongings and presented it to Alaisia.

“A gift from my travels,” he said with a gleam in his eyes. “I purchased it in Bree ere my departure.” A broad smile spread across Alaisia’s face when she opened it to find a set of engraved silver beads set with diamonds—one for her to wear at the end of her braid, and one for Thorin to weave into his own braids.

“Thank you, this is absolutely lovely,” Alaisia said as Thorin worked the bead onto her hair. Alaisia slipped Thorin’s bead onto one of the braids that framed his face and stroked his cheek tenderly. _We are fortunate to have one another,_ Thorin mused as he took Alaisia’s arm to lead her to breakfast. Not many in his position found true love. Many of his forebears had married to craft strategic alliances with other Dwarf houses, and while his own parents had married out of love, their time together was tragically cut short. For a fleeting moment Thorin wondered if their quest to slay Smaug was folly, if perhaps they would be better off staying in Dvergatal where they were safe, but then he remembered Gandalf’s ominous warning about Smaug and the Necromancer.

 _No,_ Thorin grimly realized, _we have no choice but to proceed as we discussed last night_.

Breakfast passed in somewhat of a haze. Thorin’s thoughts were still focused on Erebor and Smaug, as well as on the letters he planned to send to his fellow Dwarf lords. While Thorin and Alaisia sought to display a façade of normalcy for their children so that they could enjoy one last peaceful breakfast with them before telling them of their plans, neither of them were able to effectively mask their somber demeanor. Thornar realized something was amiss and set down his fork, his last link of sausage resting abandoned on it.

“ _Amad_ , _Adad_ , what is the matter? You both seem lost in thought this morning.”

Eiraisia chimed in with her brother. “Neither of you has said much more than a few words. Did something happen that you need to tell us about?”

Thorin exchanged a quick glance with Alaisia. Their son and daughter were highly perceptive and therefore quite difficult to conceal things from. Frankly, it was a small miracle that they made it nearly to the end of breakfast without one of the twins commenting on something being amiss. Thorin only hoped that his children would understand the critical importance of the quest he and Alaisia planned to embark on.

He and Alaisia took turns explaining the situation to their children, each careful to keep their tone relatively matter of fact in an attempt to avoid causing distress. They elected to omit their knowledge of threats to Thorin’s life, fearing that such news might incite panic, but all else they shared with the twins. Thorin swallowed nervously when he and Alaisia finished their explanation. The crestfallen expressions Eiraisia and Thornar wore made Thorin feel as if the air had been knocked out of him. Thornar and Eiraisia were, as Thorin and Alaisia worried, immensely displeased at the prospect of being left behind for the duration of the quest.

“You are leaving _again_ already? Both of you this time?” Eiraisia asked incredulously, tears pooling heavily at the edges of her eyes.

“Why do you have to go? And if you must go, please let us come with you!” Thornar pleaded fervently. “Eiraisia and I are improving in our combat skills. We could be helpful…”

“Both of you are too young as of yet to go on such a dangerous journey. I know it is hard for you to understand now, and that you do not wish to be parted from us, but as Queen and King we must sometimes make sacrifices for the good of our people,” Alaisia gently said as she rose and walked around the table to rest a hand on each of her children’s shoulders.

Thorin nodded. “Aye, and unfortunately our duty must sometimes lead us away from you two. Neither your mother nor I have any desire to leave you. However, it would be far too risky to take you along with us, and if we did take you we would be so concerned for your safety that we would not be able to focus on the task at hand.”

Eiraisia frowned at her father, her eyebrows knitting together in consternation. “But you and _Amad_ had to leave Erebor and Dale when you were barely older than us,” she protested.

“Your _Adad_ and I had no choice then. We were driven out by a dragon. You two, on the other hand, are safe here. If we do not need to risk your safety, we would prefer not to. When Erebor is reclaimed we will send for you, your Auntie Dis, and your grandparents to come join us,” Alaisia explained.

“If we are safe here, why do you need to go on this quest?” Thornar asked, his brow furrowing in thought. “The Necromancer and Smaug are on the other side of Middle-earth.”

Thorin sighed. _He will make a good King someday, with the proper training—he already knows how to ask the most difficult questions._ “If Gandalf’s concerns prove valid, Smaug and the Necromancer could bring ruin to the lands east of the Misty Mountains, and there is no guarantee that they would leave the West of Middle-earth unscathed. We cannot responsibly stand idly by. With the right army, and the right plan, we can avoid disaster, save lives, and reclaim our homeland.”

Alaisia gave him an approving nod from across the table and gently stroked the twins’ heads. Thornar and Eiraisia were silent for a few moments as they digested the tidings their parents had shared. At last, Thornar huffed out a defeated sigh. “I suppose I understand now. Smaug cannot be left unchallenged. But can you promise us that you will return?”

Eiraisia looked to her father hopefully. Thorin felt his heart break when he saw Alaisia brush a stray tear on Eiraisia’s face away with her thumb. With a heavy heart, Thorin chose the difficult path of honesty, for lying to grant the twins some comfort now could worsen their pain later if tragedy were to befall Alaisia or himself on the quest. “Would that I could, but I cannot promise that we will return. Much is uncertain about the future. However, I _can_ promise that your mother and I will do our best to return to you.”

Alaisia’s eyes gleamed with fiery resolve. “Aye, we survived the fire drake once before. If Mahal is kind, we will outlast Smaug again, and vanquish the beast this time.”

In spite of these assurances, a cloud of fear and uncertainty still hung thick in the air around Thornar and Eiraisia. It was clear that the young prince and princess were attempting to appear brave for the sake of their parents, but their resolve was as fragile as a flower threatened by a winter storm. Thorin made his way around the table to gather the Alaisia and the children in a warm embrace. His gesture of comfort proved too much for poor Thornar, whose efforts to abstain from crying failed as he buried his face in his father’s chest and sobbed. Eiraisia was drawn into her brother’s raw emotion and began crying anew while her mother stroked her hair softly and whispered soothing words.

Thorin gritted his teeth as the sight of his children’s abject sorrow hit him like a knife to the gut. _They do not deserve this_ , he thought bitterly. Not for the first time, Thorin cursed Smaug for bringing chaos, death, and danger into his life. Retaking Erebor would not erase painful memories of the past, nor would slaying Smaug, but at least destroying the dragon could pave the way to a more secure future. If there was even a chance that his children, and hopefully one day his grandchildren, could live in a world free from the fear of dragon fire, a world in which Erebor and Dale were restored to their former glory, Thorin was willing to fight to the death to make that happen.

* * *

A hushed silence fell over the small group gathered in the royal quarters when Thorin presented the weathered map and key that Gandalf gave him. Telling the rest of the family of Gandalf’s proposed mission had fortunately proved far less painful than the conversation Thorin and Alaisia had with their children that morning. No tears were shed, nor any protests made, when Thorin explained the urgency of the quest. All of the Dwarves present—Dis, Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, Oin, Gloin, Thila, and Morak—had listened solemnly and occasionally nodded their heads in silent agreement. There was only one outburst in the form of a particularly colorful string of Khuzdul curses from Dwalin upon hearing the news that someone had set a price on Thorin’s head.

“Did my father ever tell any of you about the secret entrance?” Thorin asked. The deafening quiet was answer enough for Thorin. It puzzled him, though, for Thrain had never been a man keen on secrets or mysteries. Why would he not have told anyone?

Balin echoed his thoughts. “If there really is another way in, that certainly improves our chances, though I do wonder why Thrain never told any of us. He always spoke of wanting to reclaim Erebor. A hidden route into the Mountain, one that Smaug himself might not be aware of, is a great advantage, and one that seems worthy of at least a passing mention.”

 _Perhaps he did not think it was necessary to share because he thought he would be alive to lead us there,_ Thorin’s mind offered tauntingly, but he did not give voice to the notion. Alaisia’s featherlight touch on his arm disrupted his brooding. She gave him a knowing, sympathetic look before addressing Dis.

“Dis,” Alaisia began softly, “I know that you desire to reclaim Erebor as well, and that you have long dreamed of returning home at last. We fully intend to take back the Mountain from Smaug, but Thorin and I wish for you to remain here while we do so. Someone must rule in our stead, watch over our people, and see to our defenses here if the worst comes to pass. You are the most qualified for that role, for you have ruled in our absence in the past.”

Dis offered no dissent to Alaisia’s words. There was a time when her acquiescence to such a request would have been hard won; a time when she would have argued ceaselessly until she was allowed to join the fight to reclaim her homeland. That time was long past, however. Drayli’s death had a profound effect on Dis. After his passing, Dis collapsed into a shell of her former self rendered hollow by grief. It had taken her years to recover, and while she did recover, she was never again the same carefree, high-spirited dwarrowdam she had once been.

Thila and Morak, Alaisia’s mother and father, readily agreed to linger behind to watch over their grandchildren upon hearing how hard the twins had taken the news earlier. It gladdened Thorin to know that his children would not be without family even if he and Alaisia perished.

He would not have all of those gathered linger behind, however. If their hearts were willing, Thorin wished to have his cousins join. “Balin, Dwalin, Oin, and Gloin—will you join us in our quest? There will be much danger, not only at Erebor but also along the road to our former kingdom. Should you wish to remain here, Alaisia and I will not hold it against you, but if you consent to accompany us you shall forever have our gratitude.”

Dwalin shared a quick look with the other three and nodded. “Aye, laddie and lassie. We’re your family and we’ve followed you through years of exile. We may have a kingdom again now, but gilded exile is still exile. It is time to return home. We are with you, every step of the way.”

“We want to come too!” Kili blurted out as he nudged his brother. Fili nodded eagerly beside him, his eyes blazing with determination as he looked upon his aunt and uncle. Dis’ face fell at Kili’s exclamation and she glanced down at the ground.

“You have told us tales of the Mountain and of Dale since we were wee Dwarflings. Both of us are old enough and skilled enough in combat to fend for ourselves. Allow us to come with you and help you kill Smaug,” Fili pleaded. “I promise you that we shall not be burdens.”

Thorin expected this to happen, as did Alaisia, but neither wished to offer the boys a place in the Company without consulting Dis. Dis had lost so much already, had _suffered_ so much already. It could break her beyond repair if something happened to either her precious sons.

Alaisia exhaled softly and walked over to her sister-in-law. She placed a delicate hand on Dis’ shoulder, causing the dwarrowdam to look first at her, then across the room at Thorin. Heartbreak, turmoil, and anguish swam in Dis’ Durin-blue eyes. After a steadying breath, a steely flash of resolve spread across Dis’ face. She clasped Alaisia’s hand firmly as if she was attempting to draw some measure of strength from the contact and rallied herself to speak to Fili and Kili.

“Each of you are more than thrice the age of Thornar and Eiraisia, and you have both traveled abroad for trading missions on many occasions. Both of you have seen combat and survived it. I will not forbid you from going on this Quest if that is what you wish,” Dis resignedly declared. The broad grins that spread across her sons’ faces appeared to lift Dis’ spirits somewhat. “I _will_ ask that you return to me unharmed. Not a single hair out of place!”

Kili and Fili laughed and hugged their mother. “Thank you, _Amad_.” Kili said. “I promise that we will come back to you.”

A pang went through Thorin as he recalled his words to Thornar and Eiraisia. _Don’t make promises you might break,_ Thorin wanted to say to Kili. As much as it pained Thorin to consider the possibility, there was a chance that Fili and Kili might come to harm on this quest. Dis was heartened by Kili’s promise, though, so Thorin said nothing to correct his nephew.

Dis tugged her boys closer in their embrace and looked to Alaisia and Thorin. She did not speak, but Thorin saw that there was a silent command in her expression to protect Fili and Kili. Thorin nodded his assent and saw Dis smile in gratitude as she wiped away a stray tear.

 _Whatever happens, I will do everything in my power to keep my nephews safe_ , he vowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to post the next chapter soon. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Khuzdul translations:  
> Amad = mother  
> Adad = father


	4. A Company Gathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company of Thorin Oakenshield takes shape. Meanwhile, Thorin and Alaisia hold a council meeting with Dwarf lords from other realms in an attempt to obtain aid in their quest to slay Smaug.

Over the next few months, a mere six responses to the call for volunteers trickled in. The Ri family, comprised of distant royal family relatives Dori, Nori, and Ori, volunteered first. They were soon followed by Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, three brothers that originally hailed from the northern reaches of the Blue Mountains. The Brothers Ur, as they liked to call themselves, worked as miners and toy makers. The promise of a share of Erebor’s treasure—more wealth than they had seen in a lifetime of work—enticed them to throw their lot in with the others going on the quest.

Not a single soul apart from these six Dwarves so much as expressed a passing interest in a quest to slay a dragon, even with the promise of a rich reward for loyal service. Thorin supposed that he could not be too surprised, for he and Alaisia knew that this was a possibility, but that did little to assuage the disappointment he felt.

He glared at the parchment that Balin had drawn up the quest’s contract on. It held a mere fourteen names, including his own name and Alaisia’s. Fourteen Dwarves were not nearly enough for the task at hand. They needed an army to kill a dragon, not a small party. Many of Thorin’s people still remembered fleeing Erebor and Dale. _Surely_ some _must thirst for vengeance against Smaug and for a return to their homeland,_ Thorin thought with a hint of bitterness. It was within his power as King to command his people to follow him into battle, and he knew that if he commanded his people to embark on the mission to Erebor he could gather the army that he required, but Thorin did not wish to be a cruel King. He refused to follow in his mad grandfather’s footsteps. Thorin desired only to act for the betterment of his people, for the safety of his family, and for the honor of the Longbeards.

Some small measure of hope remained. Three noble Dwarves answered the summons Thorin and Alaisia sent out: King Torbjorn Firebeard, King Hjalmar Broadbeam, and Lord Dain Ironfoot. The Firebeards and Broadbeams resided in halls north of Dvergatal in the Blue Mountains, while Dain was Thorin’s own cousin and the Lord of the Iron Hills east of Erebor. They arrived in Dvergatal the previous evening and were scheduled to meet today to discuss Gandalf’s proposed quest, although the wizard himself had unfortunately not yet arrived to Thorin’s knowledge. Thorin had the highest hopes for aid from his cousin Dain, for Dain’s folk resided not far from Erebor, and they were more likely to be sympathetic to the call for help against Smaug.

None of the other houses of the Dwarves that Thorin and Alaisia sent word to deigned to respond to their call. Balin seemed to expect that outcome.

“After all, the other houses risked much and lost much in the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs. Even if we did vanquish many of the Orcs in the end, we were still unable to reclaim Moria. It is understandable that the leaders of the other houses would not wish to take on a dragon. Failure to defeat Smaug could lead to dragon fire and ruin,” Balin had said when Thorin brought him the news.

Shaking his head wistfully, Thorin tucked the parchment into a pocket on the inside of his surcoat. He was dressed in his finest raiment for the day’s meeting, the wealth of his garb meant to persuade the other Dwarf lords of the worthiness of his cause. Thorin wore a midnight blue surcoat with silver embroidery, a silver belt adorned with chips of sapphire, and a billowing cloak of the deepest black that was fastened with a gold raven emblem. Alaisia also dressed elegantly for the meeting at hand as she donned an auburn satin gown woven with seed pearls and rubies that glinted like fire in the light of the torches that lined Dvergatal’s halls.

The King and Queen marched hand-in-hand into the council chamber where Lord Dain, King Torbjorn, and King Hjalmar were gathered around a rough-hewn granite table. Thorin was somewhat apprehensive, concerned that perhaps all of his efforts would be for naught and that no aid would come from his fellow lords, but he schooled his expression into a stony mask.

“We thank you for traveling to speak with us about the matter of reclaiming Erebor from the clutches of the accursed fire-drake Smaug. Long have our people lingered in exile while the dragon broods over our treasure. With your aid, we would honor the memory of those who fell when Smaug attacked Lake-town and Dale, reclaim our homeland, and usher in a new era of peace and prosperity,” Thorin intoned.

“Of course, if you choose to assist us, you shall all be richly rewarded with a share of the wealth concealed within Erebor,” Alaisia added.

Torbjorn, a burly Dwarf whose blazing red beard was now streaked with snowy highlights, appeared cautiously intrigued. “Your letter requested military aid. How many Dwarves have you recruited for the assault on Smaug so far?”

Thorin bit back a sigh and fought the urge to grimace. “There are fourteen of us so far, including Alaisia and I,” he quietly announced.

“Only fourteen! No others have volunteered?” Torbjorn exclaimed as his eyebrows shot upward in surprise.

“Perhaps it is because they know the quest can only fail,” Hjalmar bluntly declared. “No one can fault you for seeking revenge against Smaug, but you have to admit that the odds of successfully slaying the beast are desperately low. The fire-breathing mongrel would see us approaching and set any army we send ablaze.”

 _Why would he come to this meeting if he had no desire to assist us?_ Thorin thought angrily. Swallowing his burgeoning irritation, Thorin decided to reveal the map and key that he received from Gandalf.

“According to local reports, Smaug has not been seen outside the Mountain in years. He slumbers underneath the halls of Erebor and guards the treasure within. Perhaps if we were to foolishly lead an assault on the ruins of the main gate, Smaug would awake and rain a fiery death down upon us all. Alaisia and I are not proposing such an assault,” Thorin said as he deposited the map and key on the table.

“This key opens a secret door on the side of the Mountain, and this map contains the instructions to find that door. If we lead our army through a secret entrance, we may gain the advantage that we need to defeat the dragon,” Alaisia explained.

Dain reached for the map and perused it carefully. “I don’t see any mention of a hidden door on here. How did you come to acquire this map, cousin?” His bushy red eyebrows were drawn upward in skepticism.

“Gandalf received it from my father many years ago, and he passed it into my keeping when we had a chance meeting in Bree. Apparently, the instructions to find the door are concealed in moon runes, but with the right assistance the runes will be easy enough to decipher,” Thorin assured Dain.

Looking a bit unsettled, Torbjorn raised a concern of his own. “Thorin, did your father ever breathe a word of this door to you ere his disappearance? What proof do you have that it really exists, or that it would lead to a broad enough passage to send an army through?”

The Lord of the Firebeards’ words were not meant unkindly, but they stung all the same. In truth, until they got Lord Elrond’s help with the map, they had no way of guaranteeing that the map truly held instructions to find the door. And even if the door _did_ exist ere the Mountain’s ruin, they had no guarantee that it remained intact or undiscovered by Smaug.

“I understand your concerns, Torbjorn. We have no proof at the moment other than this map and Thrain’s word as entrusted to Gandalf. But I trust Thrain and Gandalf. They would not have any cause to lie or dissemble the truth. Furthermore, even _if_ the door is not what we hope for, we truly have no choice but to march on Erebor,” Alaisia boldly declared.

“How is it that we have no choice in the matter?” Hjalmar asked suspiciously.

“An evil being who calls himself the Necromancer has risen to power in Greenwood the Great. This Necromancer has been gathering an army of Orcs and Goblins to the ruined fortress of Dol Guldur, and Gandalf has reason to suspect that the Necromancer is seeking to ally himself with Smaug. If they were to join forces, it could prove ruinous to Rhovanion and the lands of Middle-earth beyond,” Alaisia revealed. “You do not have to take my word alone for it. I am certain that my cousin by law, Lord Dain, is aware of the growing threat in the Greenwood, for his own halls are not terribly very far from there.”

Thorin smirked as Torbjorn and Hjalmar both looked to Dain. _Perhaps that will get their attention and hold it. It should certainly seize Dain’s attention,_ he thought as he awaited his cousin’s response.

Dain cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Indeed, Alaisia speaks the truth. My scouts have reported Orcs streaming southwest across the Redwater. Rumors from traveling Dwarves whisper of Goblins and Orcs venturing down from the Misty Mountains toward the Greenwood as well. What I _cannot_ confirm is the existence of a Necromancer, or a potential alliance between Smaug and said Necromancer. Many folks have whispered of a growing darkness in the Elf-king’s forest, so much so that most speak of it as Mirkwood, but whether this darkness poses any greater threat is debatable.”

Hjalmar leaned forward in his seat and locked eyes with Thorin. “You would seek our aid against a dragon—indeed, perhaps against an army of Orcs as well if they choose to interfere with the proposed venture—but we have naught to go on except rumors of grave consequences if we fail and hope of a door that may prove false. Thorin, I came here today wishing to offer some small aid, but I cannot give you an army with which to slay a dragon. We need our strength here.”

Torbjorn rubbed his beard thoughtfully and sighed before he turned to face Alaisia and Thorin. His eyes were kind and filled with regret as he stated his position. “I wanted to offer you military support, Thorin and Alaisia. I consider you both friends and greatly value our alliance. However, I find now that I cannot render the aid that I hoped to. How can I order my people to fight a battle that is not theirs when your own folk are clearly not willing to?”

 _You are wrong,_ Thorin wanted to shout, _this may not be your fight now, but it could become your fight if we cannot stop Smaug!_ If Gandalf’s hypothesis proved true, failure to kill Smaug could grant the Necromancer the strength he needed to wreak havoc on not only Rhovanion but also the West of Middle-earth. Thorin was infuriated by his fellow lords’ refusal to trust in Gandalf’s judgment. Gandalf was wise, not a meddlesome fear-monger, and his counsel had seldom been wrong in the past. Thorin supposed that he could not be surprised, though, at the reluctance of Torbjorn and Hjalmar, for the Firebeards and Broadbeams had remained aloof in the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs. He had simply hoped that this occasion might be different, that his allies might show some small measure gratitude for decades of prosperous trade.

Not trusting his temper sufficiently to speak to Torbjorn and Hjalmar, Thorin inclined his head and nodded curtly in understanding. He turned to Dain, his own flesh and blood, and awaited his answer. _Surely my cousin will not fail me_ , Thorin thought confidently. _He may have been skeptical, but he has never been one to flee from a fight._

Dain had a defiant look on his face. It was an expression that Thorin was familiar with, and one that gave him hope that perhaps he would receive the army he needed.

“You lot are sorely mistaken,” Dain bluntly stated to Torbjorn and Hjalmar. “Smaug does need to die, that much any fool should understand. Dragons pose a threat to all no matter where they make their blasted roost. I’m less certain of the threat posed by Orcs gathering in Mirkwood. That’s Thranduil’s problem to contend with, though the pointy-eared waif is probably too busy prancing about on his blasted elk and staring at his reflection to do much of anything about it.”

Thorin concealed a wry smile at the rather indignant scowls that Torbjorn and Hjalmar cast at Dain. “Will you help us then, cousin?” He asked eagerly.

“Aye, you shall have my Iron Hills warriors if you want them, but only if you are able to retrieve the Arkenstone from the dragon’s hoard within Erebor,” Dain announced in a tone that brooked no argument.

All remaining shreds of hope that Thorin still clung to vanished in an instant, and anger filled the pit that they left in his heart. He was not alone in his reaction. The wrath in Alaisia’s eyes was scalding as she glared at Dain and stalked around the table to the chair opposite Dain like a lioness preparing to lunge for her prey. Alaisia clenched and unclenched her jaw as if locked in an internal battle over whether she should restrain her emotions or unleash them on Dain.

Thorin’s Queen opted for the latter.

“You _coward!_ Torbjorn and Hjalmar did not wish to fight, but at least they had the guts and decency to tell us that they would not offer us an army. You, on the other hand…you would give us a fool’s errand, you would send us into the dragon’s lair alone to retrieve the Arkenstone! It could be anywhere in the treasure hoard. Smaug will smell and singe the fourteen of us before we are even able to put up a fight. Is your loyalty to your cousin, to your own flesh and blood for Mahal’s sake, so tenuous that it would rest on our possession of a bloody _stone?_ Do family ties mean _nothing_ to you? Either offer us the army of the Iron Hills or withhold it, but do not tell us that you will assist us only if we complete an impossible task,” Alaisia spat out.

Dain at least had the decency to look mildly ashamed at Alaisia’s words, his eyes briefly skirting to the table before they rose to meet Alaisia’s. “Your words are harsh, but the mission that you propose is far from certain to succeed. Smaug needs to die, aye, but that does not mean that I am willing to charge my army into a reckless confrontation.”

Thorin crossed his arms and glowered across the table at his cousin. “Since when have you been one to eschew recklessness, cousin? I seem to recall that it was you who charged ahead of the rest of our forces in the Battle of Azanulbizar to attack our foe, or was that another Dwarf?”

“It was I,” Dain countered. “And I’m still bold now in spite of my years, but dragons are another matter entirely. Retrieving the Arkenstone is not a fool’s errand. If you are able to retrieve it, that proves that we _can_ sneak in and catch Smaug unawares.”

Grudgingly, Thorin admitted to himself that Dain had a somewhat valid point, though it did not make the puzzle of how to retrieve the Arkenstone any simpler. Alaisia returned to his side and clasped his hand softly. The gesture provided some small comfort, but a heavy fog of despair still encircled Thorin’s mind, and it was plain to Thorin that Alaisia was also worried about their chances of success.

Dain sighed heavily upon seeing the crestfallen faces of Thorin and Alaisia. “Do not make the mistake of taking my response as a sign that I am aloof. Thorin, you’ve always been my favorite cousin, and I have gladly fought at your side in the past. And you, Alaisia—I’ve always admired your spirit. You do not let others order you around or suffer injustices to pass unnoticed. My army is yours if you meet the condition I set. For now, I shall withdraw to my halls. May Mahal grant his strength to your weapons on your journey.”

“Farewell, Dain,” Thorin responded gravely as his cousin rose to depart. The other Dwarf lords followed suit, and soon Thorin and Alaisia were left alone in their council chamber.

“That did not go as I had hoped, but I suppose that I was a fool for thinking we would so easily obtain the warriors we needed,” Alaisia murmured as she sank down wearily into a chair. “I see precious little hope for our quest now. How are we ever to find the Arkenstone amidst the piles of treasure that Smaug guards without detection? By now it could be anywhere in Erebor, including under Smaug himself!” She seemed aged beyond her years in that moment, her grief at the apparent certainty of failure quashing the fiery stubbornness that Thorin loved so dearly.

The sight of his beloved’s sorrow stoked Thorin’s determination. He kneeled at Alaisia’s side and pressed soft kisses to her hands before he reached up to cup her cheeks tenderly. “Not all is lost, _amralime_. I swear to you that we will devise a new plan, one that will allow us to reclaim our home and return to our family. We cannot give up now.”

A spark of determination flickered in Alaisia’s eyes. “No, I suppose we cannot. We must proceed with or without the assistance of others. If Dain insists on us obtaining the Arkenstone, as much as that insistence still infuriates me, then let us find a way to retrieve it. It may be hopeless, but we must at least try.”

Thorin nodded firmly in a silent promise and threaded his hands through Alaisia’s hair as he leaned forward to kiss her. As soon as his lips met hers, however, a mysterious sound disturbed him. As the noise grew closer, Thorin discerned quiet footsteps accompanied by a _clacking_ sound. Thorin offered his hand to Alaisia to help her out of the chair, and the pair turned to see a long shadow materialize in the doorway. A tall figure swathed in grey robes that exhibited various stages of wear rapped on the door with a wooden staff to announce his presence.

“Perhaps I may be of some assistance,” Gandalf the Grey called out brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf is here! In the next chapter, the Company will make their final preparations and arrive at Bag End in Hobbiton. I'll be ready to post that chapter next Thursday. Also, thanks as always for reading! If you are enjoying this story, I'd love to hear from you. 
> 
> Khuzdul translations: 
> 
> Amralime = my love


	5. In a Hole in the Ground, There Lived a…Burglar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf chooses a burglar for the Quest for Erebor. Thorin, Alaisia, and the rest of the Company reach The Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the chapter is in Alaisia's POV, and the second part of the chapter is in Thorin's POV.

**Dvergatal - Alaisia’s POV**

“So, as you can see, we are at somewhat of a loss on how to proceed now,” Thorin grumbled as he finished informing the Grey Wizard of what transpired during the meeting with Torbjorn, Hjalmar, and Dain.

“Do you have any suggestions on how we might succeed under these circumstances?” Alaisia asked Gandalf hopefully.

Gandalf huffed, irritation flitting across his face as he considered his answer. “Dain is a stubborn creature, that much I always knew, but this…” His voice trailed off as he shook his head in frustration. “This refusal to offer help unless you present him with the Arkenstone is simply foolish and short-sighted on his part. That being said, the way forward seems quite clear to me.”

Thorin arched a brow at Gandalf. “What do you propose?” He asked skeptically. Alaisia shared his cynicism somewhat, for the problem with which they were now faced did not seem so easy to overcome.

“You need someone with a great measure of stealth to infiltrate Erebor and retrieve the Arkenstone. That means that you will need a burglar, and I have an inkling of someone who may be well-suited to the task,” Gandalf responded with a self-satisfied glint in his eyes.

“Do you mean Nori? He’s already decided to join us, and he admitted to a somewhat… _unsavory_ past career as a thief. Perhaps we could put his skills to use for a more noble cause,” Alaisia mused.

“Not Nori,” Gandalf answered resolutely. “He simply will not do, for reasons that I don’t care to discuss at this time. I have someone else in mind, but I need time to confirm my suspicions that this fellow will be the right person for our merry Quest. Be ready to leave within a month’s time at a moment’s notice. I shall send word of our meeting place when the time comes.”

Alaisia and Thorin exchanged a quizzical glance. The prospect of bringing along someone they did not know for the task of burgling the Arkenstone was concerning—how were they to judge whether or not the individual Gandalf had in mind would be a good fit for the quest? How could they ensure this burglar wouldn’t rob them blind during the night and abandon the quest? 

Yet Thorin and Alaisia had precious little choice in the matter. Nori would not be suitable candidate according to Gandalf, and they still needed someone to serve as their thief as Gandalf was undeniably correct in his assertion that sending in a skilled burglar was their best chance at success. _We must trust Gandalf and hope that he will not err in his decision,_ Alaisia realized. _He has great wisdom. Surely he has faced other dragons and knows what needs to be done._

The telltale slump of Thorin’s shoulders before he straightened himself and gave a curt nod to Gandalf told Alaisia that he, too, understood they had to place their trust in Gandalf, even if leaving the decision entirely to the wizard still dissatisfied him.

“Very good, then,” Gandalf beamed at Thorin and Alaisia. “Very good indeed. Now that we are agreed, I must be on my way. There is much to see to ere our departure for the Mountain!”

Gandalf rose from his chair and tipped his pointed hat toward Thorin and Alaisia. The wizard gathered his robes and departed the council chamber as swiftly as he entered it earlier. Thorin lingered in his seat, silently brooding in the direction of the door, until the _clack_ of Gandalf’s staff was no longer audibly echoing off of the stone halls of Dvergatal. He exhaled slowly and reached out for Alaisia’s hands.

“Forgive my ill mood, my love. I know that we must trust in Gandalf, but it is difficult to do so when he left us with no information regarding the man he seems to have chosen for our quest. Would that he had at least given us a hint as to where his thief will come from…” Thorin’s voice trailed off as he shook his head in frustration. “Nevertheless, I suppose we must make our preparations and hope for the best. I will speak to Balin about the outcome of today’s council. We must draw up a new contract for whoever our burglar is to be as well for the rest of us.”

Alaisia left her hands in Thorin’s, enjoying the steadying warmth that his hands imparted, and gave her husband a grim smile. “There is nothing to forgive; indeed, I share your worries. I will approach Gloin about the matter of readying supplies given that we now have less time to prepare than we once thought.”

Gloin had established a bank in Dvergatal and generously offered to use his capital to fund the journey to Erebor, but he expressed an interest on numerous occasions in keeping his investment as minimal as possible. _At least it will be easy to break the news of our failure to obtain more help to Gloin,_ Alaisia thought wryly. _He will be glad of the reduced cost of the venture now that our party is to number only 16 including Gandalf and our mysterious burglar._

Thorin flashed a grateful smile at Alaisia as the pair rose from their seats. Together, the King and Queen of Dvergatal made their way to the chamber’s door, each feeling less confident than they had when they first entered the chamber earlier that day. Alaisia glanced at Thorin and saw thinly veiled tension in his visage that her own features surely mirrored. She exchanged a sympathetic look with her husband and shifted closer to brush her lips over his. Thorin cupped Alaisia’s hips in his hands and kissed her—gently at first, then more fervently as Alaisia deepened the kiss in an almost desperate manner. Alaisia wove her hands around Thorin’s back under his heavy cloak to close the space between them as much as possible, and Thorin’s fingers roamed over the gemstones embedded in Alaisia’s dress.

Breathless, the couple reluctantly broke off their kisses and rested their foreheads together. Alaisia nuzzled Thorin before she lifted her lips to his ear. “We can continue this tonight, my love,” she whispered teasingly in her husband’s ear. “As much as I prefer this to preparing for our upcoming travels, there is unfortunately too much that we must do right now.”

“I shall hold you to that promise,” Thorin replied with a suggestive wink as he pecked Alaisia on the cheek. He gingerly caressed his wife’s waist. “And I also promise you that we shall get through this ordeal together, no matter the odds. You have my word, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Alaisia whispered, hoping to Mahal that her beloved’s words would prove true.

* * *

The weeks that followed the ill-fated meeting in the council chambers were a hectic blur of preparation, training, and meetings with the leading nobles of Dvergatal. Thorin and Alaisia worked closely with Dis to ensure that she would have all of the resources she needed at her disposal to rule in their stead, and they spent as much time with their beloved twins as they could in the midst of the chaos. The King and Queen also stole as many moments alone as they could, for the upcoming journey would offer precious little in terms of privacy.

Gandalf sent word as promised once he was certain of his decision regarding the Company’s final member. Based on his brief and cryptic letter, it seemed that they were supposed to meet in a Hobbit hole in The Shire, though Gandalf refused to identify the address specifically and instead instructed them to search for a particularly well-appointed home with a rune carved on a green door. There was much grumbling from Thorin upon reading this, for he still felt little affection for The Shire and its inhabitants, and the thought of searching home after home for a rune irked him. Strangely, Gandalf also advised Thorin and Alaisia to arrive later than the others. They were to wait at the Green Dragon Inn until eight o’clock on the designated date. Privately, Alaisia wondered if this restriction was in place to build good will between their new companion (presumably a Hobbit) and the rest of the group prior to Thorin’s arrival.

Thorin had grown hopeful regarding the Company’s final member, but that hope was soured upon learning that they were to meet the fellow in The Shire. While Alaisia was generally fond of Hobbits, she shared Thorin’s concern that one of such a gentle folk might be a poor choice to send into the den of a dragon. She decided to reserve final judgment until their meeting.

On the day of the Company’s departure, Alaisia stood in the doorway to her and Thorin’s chambers for a moment of silence. Her gaze drifted over the familiar furnishings. Dale was her first home, and if all went well Erebor would be her next, but Dvergatal would always hold a special place in her heart. Within these walls she and Thorin had gotten married and started a family. Memories of the past—Fili and Kili chasing each other and making mischief for Thorin as wee Dwarflings, reading bedtime stories to Eiraisia and Thornar, and quiet evenings curled up into Thorin’s side, to name a few—drifted through Alaisia’s mind.

It saddened her to think that she might not return here even if she did survive the weeks to come.

Alaisia heaved out a sigh and turned down the hallway. The Company was due to meet soon for their final farewell, so she made her way down the hallway that connected the quarters of members of the royal family. As she passed by Dis’ door, however, she heard a muffled sob. She eased open the door cautiously and saw her sister-in-law quickly wipe away tears.

Without saying anything, Alaisia walked over to where Dis was sitting by the fire and wrapped an arm around her. The intensity of Dis’ sobs grew at first with the gesture before they slowly began to subside.

“My apologies. That was rather embarrassing,” Dis muttered as she dabbed at her eyes. “I am supposed to take over as Queen in your absence and here I am bawling like a newborn babe.”

“Dis, my dear sister,” Alaisia exclaimed, “please do not ever apologize for expressing normal emotion!” She softened her voice, pausing for a moment to consider her words. “It is entirely understandable that you would cry when your beloved sons are about to embark on a dangerous journey.”

“Thank you, Alaisia,” Dis bashfully said. “I was just about to head to the main gate to see everyone off, but I started thinking about all of the things that could go wrong on the quest and, well…that led to the waterworks you saw as you came in here.”

While Dis was no longer crying, she had a haunted look in her eyes that broke Alaisia’s heart. _My poor sister,_ Alaisia thought miserably. _Thorin and I have been so busy with logistical preparations that neither of us thought to comfort Dis._

Alaisia struggled to think of adequate words of comfort for the circumstances she and Thorin placed Dis in. They were taking away her sons to face a dragon and leaving her to rule over the kingdom in their absence. It would be a heavy burden for anyone to face, and Dis had already lost so much. Alaisia hugged Dis closer and blinked away a few tears of her own.

“I am so sorry, Dis. I know that Thorin and I are asking a lot of you. If there is anything that I can do to make this easier for you, do not hesitate to ask me.”

“Thank you, Alaisia. I am not worried about ruling Dvergatal as I have done that in the past, albeit for shorter spans of time. I fear for the safety of my sons above all else. Kili, that sweet, foolish boy, can be reckless to a fault. I’ve tried and tried to convince him to be more cautious, but he has too much of his father in him. Fili is less reckless, but he is devoted to his brother would likely follow him directly into the path of danger. I’m terrified they’ll both perish. Please watch over them and keep them out of trouble as much as you possibly can.”

Alaisia withdrew her arm and shifted so that she could look Dis in the eye as she spoke. “Dis, when I thought that Thorin and I would never have children of our own, I grew to love Fee and Kee like they were my own sons. I still love them with all of my heart, and I swear to you by Mahal and the rest of the Valar that I will do everything in my power to ensure that no harm comes to them,” Alaisia fervently vowed. “You _will_ be reunited with your sons.”

“Thank you,” Dis whispered as she wiped away a final tear, “I hope that you are right, and that all will be well.”

 _I hope so too,_ Alaisia silently thought. _I will keep her boys alive or I will die trying._

* * *

**The Shire – Thorin’s POV**

Grudgingly, Thorin admitted to himself that the ale served at The Green Dragon was one of the finest he had sampled in recent years. He and Alaisia were sitting by the fire after finishing their supper at the inn. Per Gandalf’s instructions, the rest of the party had already traveled to the burglar’s home several hours earlier, and they were under strict orders to say nothing of Smaug or the quest until Thorin and Alaisia arrived.

“Thorin, it is time to seek out our burglar now,” Alaisia murmured into Thorin’s ear.

Thorin nodded grimly and took a final swig of his ale to finish off the pint before he reluctantly rose from his chair and marched to the exit with Alaisia. The entire venture to Hobbiton seemed an utter waste of time to him. Looking around disdainfully at the cheerful and docile patrons of The Green Dragon, Thorin’s confidence that no Hobbit could be a viable addition to their group—let alone fulfill the key duty of retrieving the Arkenstone—was only further cemented. Sensing Thorin’s ill temper, Alaisia twined her hand with his and gave him a swift kiss at the nape of his neck.

Thorin offered her a brief smile as he lit a small lantern. “Perhaps my misgivings shall prove false. Come, let us find the home that Gandalf described.” He doubted it, but at the very least he and Alaisia needed to rendezvous with the rest of their companions.

As it turned out, there were _many_ Hobbit holes that could arguably be described as “well-appointed” that also had green doors. They checked door after door for Gandalf’s rune carving to no avail, until at last they came to one seated higher on the hillside. It commanded an impressive view of Hobbiton from the doorstep, and it appeared to be a rather grand abode by Hobbit standards.

Thorin muttered a curse under his breath. “By Mahal’s axe, I sincerely hope that this bloody door has the rune we are looking for.” He raised the lantern he was carrying to scan the door as he previously examined the others and felt a surge of relief when he found Gandalf’s mark.

That relief promptly evaporated upon glimpsing the small halfling to whom the home belonged.

The Hobbit who opened the door had the gentle and pampered visage of one who had never spent a single night’s rest out of a fine feather bed. He seemed a bit frazzled at the moment, no doubt due to having so many ravenous Dwarves and a Wizard descend upon his home in one evening, and he looked absolutely exhausted at the prospect of having two more Dwarves enter his home. It was clear that the Hobbit had never seen battle, and he did not appear capable of thieving anything other than a wheel of cheese from his own pantry. There was also a strange familiarity to him that Thorin could not quite place.

Gandalf ducked to avoid hitting his head on a candelabra as he made his way to the door.

“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think that you would not find us here,” Gandalf chuckled. “Bilbo, these two fine Dwarves are Thorin Oakenshield and Alaisia Glavrem, the King and Queen of Dvergatal and the rightful rulers of Erebor. Thorin and Alaisia, I present to you Bilbo Baggins.”

A flicker of recognition flitted across Alaisia’s face. Her mouth opened in surprise as something dawned on her.

“We have already met once previously, though you were but a wee child at the time Bilbo. Thorin, do you recall when we were passing through Hobbiton at the time of the Old Took’s birthday celebration? Bilbo was the Hobbit lad you gave that wooden sword to!”

Thorin groaned internally. _So that is where I remember this Hobbit from,_ he thought. _I gave Bilbo a wooden sword once and now Gandalf thinks that he is qualified to sneak into a dragon’s lair to steal back the Arkenstone. Wonderful._ He glared for a fraction of a second at Gandalf before he turned his gaze back to Bilbo Baggins. At least as a Hobbit lad Bilbo possessed spirit and vigor; indeed, Thorin vaguely remembered Bilbo being fascinated by the weapons that he and Alaisia bore. As a Hobbit lad, Bilbo was thrilled at the gift of the wooden sword. Now, however…Bilbo was the antithesis of strength in Thorin’s eyes. The interceding years had erased any sign of what once might have been an adventurous soul.

Bilbo grinned awkwardly for a moment when Alaisia mentioned the wooden sword, but his smile crumbled when he saw Thorin’s stony face. He shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“Forgive my lack of manners. Please, do come inside. I remember that day. That sword was one of my favorite toys growing up. It is nice to meet both of you again,” Bilbo politely said.

A retort about how swords are most certainly not toys was forming on the tip of Thorin’s tongue, but the sudden warmth of Alaisia’s hand on his shoulder stalled him.

“I am glad that the sword brought you joy, though I am afraid we do not have much time for pleasantries tonight unfortunately,” Alaisia said to Bilbo. “We should join the others wherever they have gathered so that we can discuss the important business at hand.”

Bilbo’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Yes, of course. I must admit I am curious to learn what this business is, for no one would breathe a word of it to me at dinner. Everyone is at my dining table. There are bowls of stew for you on the table if you want them.”

Thorin glanced at Alaisia out of the corner of his eyes as the pair followed Gandalf and Bilbo toward the Hobbit’s dining room. He could tell from her solemn demeanor that she was also beginning to question Gandalf’s plan. _Perhaps together we can convince Gandalf that this coddled creature is not worth dragging out of The Shire._

“Uncle Thorin! Auntie Alaisia!” Kili exclaimed gleefully as he saw Thorin and Alaisia enter the room. A rosy hue to Kili’s cheeks, combined with a slight sway to his step as he ran over to hug Thorin and Alaisia, told Thorin that his dear nephew had perhaps had a bit too much ale at dinner. _Let the lad enjoy it, though. He will have little enough opportunity to relax like this soon,_ Thorin thought wistfully. Fili greeted them warmly but more calmly. Raised to be the heir to the throne until Thorin and Alaisia had children of their own, Fili was always a bit more even keeled than his much feistier brother.

Gandalf cleared his throat and rapped his staff on the ground to call everyone’s attention. He turned his wizened gaze toward Bilbo.

“It is time now to tell you why I have brought so many Dwarves into your home, my dear Hobbit,” Gandalf announced. “My Dwarf comrades here have been dwelling in exile for decades now, and while they wish to reclaim their homeland, the mountain kingdom of Erebor is held by a dangerous power. They need help to defeat the evil that reigns over Erebor, but their fellow Dwarves will not assist them unless they fulfill one condition.” Gandalf looked across the table at Thorin and Alaisia and raised a bushy eyebrow at them.

“We must retrieve the Arkenstone, a great treasure of our people, in order to rally the army of Thorin’s cousin Dain Ironfoot to our cause,” Alaisia explained, a trace of bitterness snaking through her voice. “Dain refuses to assist us without it.”

Bilbo looked as if he desperately wanted to speak, presumably to ask a question if the confusion plastered on his face was any indication, but Thorin spoke before the halfling could utter anything.

“That is why we need a burglar. Someone must retrieve the Arkenstone from within the treasure hoard and return it to us. Without the Arkenstone, our whole mission is hopeless,” Thorin grumbled with a scowl. He turned to face Bilbo, who visibly shrank back in his seat. “Apparently Gandalf thinks that _you_ are the best person for the task, although I have my doubts,” Thorin venomously shot at Bilbo.

Bilbo flinched at Thorin’s hostility, but he also appeared outright offended. He stood abruptly. “That is why your friends swarmed my home like a horde of ill-mannered and hungry Hobbit children? Gandalf told you that I could be a thief? A _thief?_ ” He looked accusingly at Gandalf, who simply appeared amused at the little halfling’s indignant demeanor.

“Master Thorin, I find myself having to agree with you on one thing. I most certainly not a thief. I lead an honest life here in Bag End as I always have, and I’ve never so much as _thought_ about pilfering anything. You have the wrong Hobbit.”

“Well at least we can agree on something,” Thorin growled at Bilbo. The meal at the Green Dragon Inn satisfied Thorin’s hunger, but he felt the need to attack something, so he angrily speared a chunk of beef in his stew. He pointedly ignored Alaisia rolling her eyes at his sour mood.

Nori chuckled good-naturedly as he slammed down his empty mug of ale on the table. “It matters not! All I have to do is sneak into the Mountain and steal the Arkenstone. Truly, it sounds easy enough to accomplish—I am a professional thief, after all,” he said with a wink. Dori’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as he elbowed Nori firmly in the ribs, and poor young Ori covered his reddening face in embarrassment. Thorin looked to Bilbo and saw the Hobbit wrinkle his nose before glancing around the room as if he were checking whether anything had gone missing.

 _That’s the first good instinct that Bilbo has had, aside from realizing that he has no place in our quest_ , Thorin thought wryly.

“You are a fool, Nori of House Ri! That Dragon would turn you into roast Dwarf faster than you could say the word ‘thief’,” Gandalf admonished him. “You will not do. Smaug knows the scent of Dwarves far too well. We need someone whose scent is unknown to Smaug and who can move quietly. Hobbits have _both_ traits,” Gandalf said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he looked over to Bilbo.

Bilbo’s face turned as white as one of the many doilies scattered around the room. He let out a rather undignified squeak and glanced nervously at Gandalf. “D-did you just say d-dragon? As in, fire-breathing monster that could eat me whole if it fancied?”

“Aye, laddie, though if you don’t mind me saying you’d be little more than a mid-morning snack to a dragon of Smaug’s size,” Bofur said in his characteristically cheerful voice. “He might not even want to eat you! He might just incinerate you and be done with it.”

“In-incinerate me?” Bilbo yelped.

“Do you think you can handle this job?” Alaisia asked firmly. “Should you choose to accept, there is a reward if you are able to help us reclaim Erebor. Your next-of-kin will of course be compensated in the event of your death whether it be by dragon, Orc, or some other cause.”

“It is all in this contract here,” Balin said as he waved the contract in the air for Bilbo to see.

The Hobbit’s eyes tracked the contract for a fleeting second until his legs suddenly gave way and he collapsed on the ground with a soft _thud_.

“I suppose we could’ve handled telling him about Smaug a little more tactfully,” Gandalf mused regretfully as he poked Bilbo with the end of his staff. “He’s quite all right. I’ll speak to him when he awakes. The rest of you, shoo! Make yourselves busy elsewhere in this Hobbit hole.”

Abandoning the stew, Thorin rose from his seat and left the room. Alaisia, Balin, and Dwalin followed him until they reached Bilbo’s parlor. Thorin looked at the flames flickering in the fireplace and brooded over what just transpired.

“Bilbo cannot be our burglar. He is wholly bereft of survival skills and utterly unequipped to face a dragon. If Bilbo comes with us and dies, will his death not be on our hands? I’ve seen too many real warriors fall to lesser beings than a dragon.” His mind drifted to his beloved brother, Frerin, who was slain at Azanulbizar. Frerin was an accomplished fighter and he still fell in battle. Thorin desired no part of the burden of guilt that would fall on his shoulders when the Hobbit inevitably perished.

“Of course his death would not be our fault!” Dwalin boomed, provoking Balin to _shush_ him. Dwalin grunted and spoke more quietly. “The halfling knows the risks of joining our mission. His death would be no one’s fault but his own.”

“Even though his death might not be our fault strictly speaking, his presence would complicate things for us. All of us that choose to go on this quest are honor bound to defend one another, and I will _not_ have anyone getting killed in defense of a weak halfling who should have remained in The Shire,” Thorin declared.

Balin hummed thoughtfully, mulling over the situation for a moment as he debated his response. “Dwalin, Thorin, you both raise valid points. I do not expect Master Baggins to join us after what transpired in his dining room, so it is likely that this will not even become an issue. However, if he does have a change of heart, my decision would still be to let him join our Company.”

Thorin stared at Balin as if the white-bearded Dwarf had just said the sky was green. “You would still have him join us? Balin, surely you are not speaking earnestly?”

“I am speaking earnestly. It is up to you and Alaisia, though. You our are leaders,” Balin said with a warm smile.

 _Why in Middle-earth would Balin be in favor of this?_ Thorin was utterly baffled. “Alaisia, what are your thoughts?” Thorin asked as he looked at his Queen.

“Frankly, I share your concerns, Thorin. To all appearances, Bilbo seems woefully unqualified for the task that we need him for. But…appearances can be deceiving, and courage can come from unlikely places. Gandalf is not senile—he _must_ have his reasons for inviting Bilbo, however hard they are to understand right now.”

“So you agree with Balin, then,” Thorin murmured quietly.

“I would not be in favor of bringing Bilbo along if we had any other choice, but you know as well as I do that this quest is effectively doomed without a burglar. If Bilbo is willing to try, I think we have no choice but to take him with us. We can ask Gandalf to be responsible for his hobbit’s safety since he’s the one that raised the idea of Bilbo coming along to begin with,” Alaisia somberly responded.

Thorin rubbed his beard thoughtfully. He hated—absolutely _hated_ —the idea of Bilbo Baggins joining their Company. But he grudgingly admitted that Alaisia and Balin had a point. Even if Bilbo turned out to be as useless as Thorin expected, at least allowing him to join them would give them a chance at success. They did need a burglar for their plan to work thanks to Dain’s accursed stubbornness. _If nothing else, Bilbo can stay until he thoroughly proves his uselessness so that even Gandalf can see it, or until I can think of an alternative plan._

A curt nod was the only response Thorin gave, but it was enough for the others to understand his meaning. Bilbo would be allowed to join them if he mustered the courage to do so.

Creaking floorboards signaled the approach of the rest of the Company. Thorin knew that they would all need to rest soon, for they intended to leave ere dawn broke the next morning. However, one task remained before they could let sleep claim them. Balin had written a short song for them all to sing prior to embarking on their journey that was meant to remind them of what was lost and what they must fight to reclaim.

Thorin began to sing it as he looked back into the fireplace. As his baritone voice resonated in the room, Alaisia and the others joined in to create a solemn harmony. 

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old_

_We must away, ere break of day_

_To claim our long-forgotten gold_

_The pines were roaring on the heights_

_The winds were moaning in the night_

_The fire was red; it flaming spread_

_The trees like torches blazed with light._

Alaisia’s eyes had a sheen of tears across them, but through the veil of dampness Thorin saw a fiery determination. Alaisia brushed her thumb over Thorin’s cheek and pulled him toward her for a kiss. Their lips met comfortingly as if each was attempting to convince the other that they would make this plan work, that those who gave their lives defending Erebor and Dale, and those that fled the two kingdoms, would finally have justice.

When at last Thorin succumbed to sleep that night, he dreamed of torches shining once more in the grand mountain halls of his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and thank you to readers who have left kudos thus far! I'd love to hear from you in the comments section if you are enjoying the story.


	6. I'm Going on an Adventure!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo joins Thorin and Alaisia's Company after a (slight) delay, much to Thorin's surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Quest for Erebor is officially underway! Most of this chapter is in Thorin's POV; only the last portion is in Alaisia's POV.

**The next night—Thorin’s POV**

The stars still shone dimly above the crowns of the trees when Thorin awoke. To his discontent, he realized that he could not have been asleep for long as the moon was prominent in the night sky. Bombur’s cacophonous snoring and the distant hooting of owls were the only sounds that Thorin heard in the otherwise silent forest.

Earlier that day the Company lingered at the Green Dragon Inn for a few hours at Gandalf’s behest in spite of Bilbo having informed the wizard that he absolutely would not, under _any_ circumstances, be partaking in the quest that Gandalf was trying to recruit him for. Even when at last Thorin insisted they depart to avoid further delays, Gandalf remained convinced that the little halfling would show up to join them. Dwalin thought this was absurd and challenged Gandalf to a bet that Bilbo would not show up. Of course, many of the other Dwarves thought this bet would be an easy way to make a bit of coin, so they joined in and betted with Dwalin against Gandalf. 

_Gandalf shall have to pay up come dawn,_ Thorin thought cynically. The idea of Gandalf losing a bet to a group of Dwarves would have been amusing under any other circumstances, but Thorin could not bring himself to find any cause for laughter in the current situation. Attempting to convince Bilbo to join the quest to no avail wasted precious time that could have been spent seeking a proper burglar; without a proper burglar, it seemed their mission was doomed to fail. They would try to fetch the Arkenstone with the utmost stealth they could muster, inevitably be caught by Smaug, and quite possibly perish.

Perhaps Thorin and his companions could abandon their efforts to obtain the Arkenstone and try to slay Smaug without Dain’s army, but the odds were stacked heavily against such an attempt. Even Lord Girion of Dale could not manage to shoot down Smaug with the Dwarvish windlance. Erebor’s windlance was destroyed during Smaug’s initial assault, and any remaining black arrows in Erebor were probably long since melted down by the dragon or otherwise lost.

 _No,_ Thorin thought, _our best chance is still with a burglar. That is the key to the Arkenstone and Dain’s army. Where to find one, though?_

Thorin huffed out a frustrated sigh and looked down wistfully at Alaisia. Light puffs of breath ghosted against Thorin’s chest as Alaisia slept peacefully curled into him. Thorin reached over to caress her cheek lightly before he delicately disentangled himself and rose from their shared bedroll. Sleep would not return easily to him, but there was no need to disturb his wife. _My insomnia needn’t become hers,_ Thorin sadly mused as he made his way toward the perimeter of the camp. He desperately wanted to think, to try to craft a plan that somehow wouldn’t get them all killed, and he required solitude to do that.

The sight of a small form sleeping huddled in a cloak not far from the rest of the Dwarves caused Thorin to halt in his tracks. His hand flew to the hilt of his sword instinctively at the sight of an intruder until he realized who the figure underneath the cloak was. 

It seemed the others would be paying up to Gandalf after all, for Bilbo Baggins had managed to catch up to them.

Thorin supposed it was somewhat impressive that Bilbo managed to sneak into the camp, but the only Dwarf currently on watch was Kili. As much as Thorin loved his youngest nephew, Kili was _very_ easily distracted. The level of stealth required to sneak past Kili was nowhere near that needed to sneak past a murderous dragon.

_Bilbo shall still have to prove himself useful and capable if he wishes to stay with us._

In the meantime, Thorin needed to address his nephew’s quite questionable guard skills. He carefully made his way over to where Kili stood, moving as quietly as he could to avoid waking the entire group.

“Uncle, what are you doing awake at this hour?” Kili asked as he turned to face Thorin, his face creased in confusion. Kili’s face was so innocent that it was difficult to stay too angry with him, but the lad still had to learn to be more alert.

“Thoughts of the journey ahead kept me ill at ease. It matters not, though. We have a burglar now after all—it seems that Bilbo joined us during the night. He’s asleep over there,” Thorin gestured vaguely in Bilbo’s direction. “Kili, I know that we are not far from Hobbiton and that there is likely little danger here, but you really must be more observant if you are on watch. It was only a Hobbit this time, but next time it could be an Orc,” he chided softly.

“But I was observant, Uncle,” Kili protested. “I’ve been listening very carefully for any hint of movement. I even heard you coming over here, and you were quiet! That Hobbit made no noise, at least none that my ears could detect.”

Thorin pondered Kili’s words for a moment and hummed thoughtfully. A particularly loud snore from Bombur that sounded as if it was produced by a bear startled Thorin and Kili. While it was possible that the Hobbit genuinely was capable of such great stealth that his footsteps produced no audible noise, it seemed much more likely that Bombur’s snoring was the culprit behind Kili’s inability to detect Bilbo’s approach. _Bombur’s snores could nearly mask the sound of an oliphaunt at times,_ Thorin thought as he cast a bemused sideways glance at his sleeping traveling companion.

As Thorin looked back at Kili, he saw that his nephew was attempting—and failing—to fight off a yawn.

“Why don’t you head to bed, Kee? I have the next watch anyway, and I shall not be able to rest for some time still. At least this way I can do something productive.”

Giving into the urge to yawn, Kili chuckled quietly. “Thank you, Uncle, I appreciate it. Next time I stand guard I will be sure to patrol the perimeter more so that I see anything out of place even if I do not hear anything amiss.”

The lad wandered off to his bedroll, leaving Thorin to wander around the periphery of the camp. Bilbo’s sudden presence continued to puzzle Thorin. _Based on Bilbo’s conversation with Gandalf, it seemed clear that the halfling desired no part in our adventure. I wonder what happened to change Bilbo’s mind?_ Perhaps it was the promise of gold at the end of the quest, but the Hobbit already lived a comfortable life and seemed to have little use for more wealth. It made absolutely no sense to Thorin that a weak and sheltered Hobbit would choose to face such a grave threat as a dragon.

Thorin contemplated this conundrum, as well as whether the Hobbit could prove useful or if they would still need to seek another burglar, while standing guard until at last Dwalin came to relieve him. Exhaustion caught up to Thorin as he eased himself onto the bedroll he shared with Alaisia. She sleepily cast an arm over him and tugged him closer, and Thorin soon found himself lulled to sleep by the rhythm of her breathing.

* * *

“It is quite past time for you to wake up, Master Dwarf!” Gandalf bellowed cheerfully as he poked Thorin with the end of his staff.

Groggy from his interrupted sleep that night, Thorin blearily blinked and fumbled with the blanket until he woke up enough to cast it aside. He heard Alaisia rush over.

“Was that really necessary Gandalf?” She asked accusingly as she gestured between Gandalf’s staff and Thorin.

“I think so,” Gandalf said with a mirthful gleam in his eyes. “Say what you will, but it was very effective, and most amusing for me. Your husband needs to eat breakfast with the rest of us so that we can continue our journey.”

Thorin glared sleepily up at Gandalf. “You were in little enough haste yesterday, wizard.”

“For good reason,” Gandalf answered smugly. “Our delay allowed our burglar enough time to catch up to us.” He looked fondly over at Bilbo. “I know that you doubt me still, Thorin, but the Hobbit shall prove his worth soon enough, or I am not a wizard.”

A snarky remark was forming on the tip of Thorin’s tongue, but Alaisia spoke before he could deliver it.

“Gandalf, may Thorin and I have a moment alone? We shall join everyone for breakfast shortly.”

The wizard raised a bushy eyebrow at Thorin and then walked over to the fire where Bombur was roasting potatoes and sausage for breakfast. Alaisia knelt down beside Thorin, who leaned over and gathered her into his arms in a snug embrace. Thorin peppered kisses along Alaisia’s cheek and neck, earning a peal of laughter from the dwarrowdam.

Alaisia’s smile faltered somewhat when she observed her husband’s tired features.

“I gathered from Dwalin and Kili that you did not sleep well,” she whispered softly as she traced her finger lovingly along Thorin’s jaw.

“Unfortunately not,” Thorin admitted with a heavy sigh. “Initially, I was concerned about our lack of a burglar, but once I saw Bilbo in the camp, I became anxious again about how we will manage this with _him_ as our burglar. I suppose we do not have a choice, though. If you are of the same mind, I still have the contract in my pack for him to sign.”

Alaisia worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I fear for his safety, but I agree that Bilbo is our only choice right now. We must trust Gandalf as we have in the past. Bilbo has already shown that he can sneak effectively…this may yet work out in our favor.”

“Perhaps,” Thorin noncommittally said as he reluctantly rose from the warmth of his sleeping place.

Together, the King and Queen made their way over to the rest of the Company. The others had already started eating at Gandalf’s urging. Thorin noted the small hoard of coin bags strewn across the ground near Gandalf and realized that he must have already collected his winnings from the bet over Bilbo’s decision to join the company.

Given the lack of other options—for the moment, at least—Thorin was willing to allow Bilbo to join the Company, but he still wished to understand _why_ the Hobbit had followed them. For the Dwarves, it was a fight for their future, a fight to seize back what was stolen from them. Bilbo had no true stake in that fight.

“Why did you come? We were under the impression that you decided to stay in The Shire,” Thorin gruffly asked the halfling.

Bilbo looked like a deer caught in the path of a wild Warg as he dropped the piece of sausage he was munching on in his bowl. He stammered briefly until he found his verbal footing once more. “I was not going to come, as you all know. I had made up my mind to stay home. But as I thought about your quest and Gandalf’s words, I realized that I could not stay home. He is right—I’ve been idle for far too long. When I was a child, I wanted nothing more than to go off on a grand adventure, but lately I’ve just been milling around my home and fussing over tidiness. Gandalf is convinced that I can summon enough stealth to help you all evade a dragon, and if he thinks that I am capable of assisting you in your quest then I wish to try.”

 _So that is why he has come,_ Thorin thought resignedly, _he sees this as a grand adventure. We shall see how he fares at the first sign of real danger._

Belatedly, Thorin realized that Bilbo made no mention of the mighty reward associated with the quest when he gave his reasons for following them. Did wealth really matter so little to Bilbo that he wouldn’t factor it in to his decision making? 

An awkward silence ensued, which Bilbo filled at first by nervously nibbling on his food. “I am sorry that I was so far behind. I was within sight of you all at sunset, but I chose to delay because I wanted to see if I could sneak into the camp at night and prove my ability to exercise stealth.”

“You were quite successful in that endeavor!” Alaisia praised Bilbo. “I was rather surprised to see you when I woke up this morning.”

Bilbo smiled bashfully at the praise, though he still cast uneasy glances at Thorin’s brooding visage. Wordlessly, Thorin retrieved the contract from his traveling pack and tossed it over to Bilbo. Balin produced a quill and opened a small pot of ink for Bilbo. The curly-haired Hobbit took a deep breath and lowered the quill to the paper to sign his name.

“Welcome to our fine Company!” Balin beamed as he scanned the contract to ensure that it had all of the required signatures. “May this quest bring us all good fortune,” he murmured quietly.

After a hasty breakfast, the Dwarves, Hobbit, and Wizard mounted their steeds and continued along the Great East Road. They broke through a smattering of trees and rode among a series of gently rolling hills with carefully tended fields populated occasionally by livestock. Some Hobbit farmers saw them pass by and gaped at the odd sight of a Hobbit and a Wizard accompanying so many Dwarves; others murmured disapprovingly about the presence of fully armed Dwarves so near to their property. 

Two days after Bilbo arrived, the Company passed a series of jagged cliffs at the border of an aged forest that seemed untouched by the passage of time.

“We are in the Old Forest,” Bilbo breathed reverently. “I heard many a tale about this place as a child, but until now I have not had the privilege of coming here myself. This forest has existed for centuries, even prior to the Third Age, if the stories are true.”

“It is a lovely forest,” Alaisia commented approvingly as she looked around in awe.

Thorin did not share Alaisia’s admiration of the forest—indeed, as a rule Thorin merely _tolerated_ forests—but he smiled at Alaisia all the same as it brought him joy to see her face brightened by the sight of the woods. Poplar and fir trees towered around them on all sides and nearly blocked the light of the sun from filtering down to the forest floor. Thankfully, the segment of the Great East Road that wound its way through the forest was relatively clear and easy to traverse for the ponies, but gnarled tree roots twisted around either side of the path.

When they exited the forest, they discovered that it had also provided them with excellent shelter from the weather as they were met with a deluge of rain. The dense, primordial cover of the trees had made the downpour seem like a gentle drizzle. By the second afternoon after they left the forest, the rain had not ceased, and everyone was thoroughly drenched and freezing.

“Will this thrice-cursed rain ever cease?” Nori grumbled. His normally star-shaped hair was gradually collapsing into a diffuse reddish blob around his head due to the weight of the water the sky was dumping on them. To Nori’s side, Dori was fussing over Ori like a mother hen and attempting to cover him with a spare cloak in a feeble attempt to keep his little brother as warm as possible.

Standing puddles of water dotted the path around the Company, and the ponies’ hooves made loud _squelching_ sounds as they plodded along. Thorin’s pony huffed and angrily shook her mane, causing water to fly back unceremoniously into Thorin’s already soaked face. Several of the other ponies also voiced their discontent with irritated _neighs_. Bifur cast occasional curses in Khuzdul at the sky and shook his fist.

“Uncle, Auntie, there’s a rocky overhang ahead! Should we take shelter and make camp?” Fili shouted back from where he was riding at the head of the column with Kili.

Thorin considered Fili’s request. The thought of escaping this rain was admittedly tempting, but they could also still journey for several more hours ere nightfall. Camping so early in the afternoon would mean precious time lost. Thorin looked over to Alaisia to gauge her perspective and saw that his wife’s cloak was waterlogged from the onslaught of the rain. She was pressing onward stubbornly, but she looked miserable. Everyone did, for that matter. _Perhaps we should halt for the rest of the day and let this storm pass_ , Thorin thought. _I have been hoping to find some form of shelter._ As if on cue, a thunderclap boomed through the sky, and a spike of lightning flashed in the distance.

“Aye, it is early still, but this storm does not seem to be improving. We shall stop there for the day,” Thorin ordered.

Kili gave a _whoop_ of joy and raced Fili to the campsite. Gandalf outpaced them easily on his horse, and the others followed along as fast as their irritable ponies would permit. The natural shelter Fili identified was not quite a proper cave, but it was set deeply into the base of a cliff such that the whole party (including their four-legged helpers) was able to retreat from the rain. Trees with broad trunks were scattered across the landscape in front of the cliff.

When the entire group gathered, Bofur scrounged together some of the plant detritus that was scattered under the shelter to start a fire. Bilbo sneezed several times in succession as he held his hands in front of the fire to warm them. He glanced over hesitantly at Alaisia and Thorin.

“Are we planning on stopping in any towns along the way? Bree is nearby, and though I haven’t been there myself, I’ve heard that they have an excellent inn,” Bilbo mentioned.

“Are the wilds not to your liking?” Thorin retorted. “No, Master Hobbit, we will not enter any village of Men unless we must.”

Bilbo’s face fell upon hearing Thorin’s rebuke. “What makes you so hesitant to encounter humans?” Bilbo tentatively asked.

Alaisia shrugged out of her soggy cloak and cast it on the ground to dry as she walked over to Bilbo. Thorin looked at Alaisia with questioning eyes, but Alaisia merely responded with a shrug of her shoulders and sat down.

“He deserves to know if he intends to travel with us,” she offered in explanation to Thorin. “Bilbo, we have no quarrel with humans on the whole. For my part, I grew up with humans and Dwarves alike in Dale. However, Gandalf discovered a bounty notice with instructions to kill Thorin in the possession of an Orc, and we have reason to believe that some human ruffians in Bree intended to act on the very same bounty. Simply put, we cannot afford the risk of staying in a village such as Bree considering that we do not know who we can trust.”

“Thank you for explaining the situation to me,” Bilbo gratefully said as he looked over at Alaisia. “I suppose we must keep a careful watch while on the road as well, then,” Bilbo muttered. The Hobbit tapped his hairy feet nervously on the ground in front of him, no doubt considering the very real danger he had inserted himself into. The anxious look on Bilbo’s face was almost— _almost_ —enough to make Thorin pity the Halfling, but Bilbo _chose_ this path. He had to live with the consequences.

Alaisia took note of Bilbo’s distress as well and hummed thoughtfully for a moment. She patted Bilbo’s back lightly in a comforting gesture. “Danger shall likely follow us on the entirety of our quest, but we Dwarves are capable fighters. Try to not fret too much. If you wish, one of us can train you how to fight so that you are not wholly defenseless on your own.”

That _was_ an interesting idea to Thorin. Perhaps the small Halfling would be rubbish with a real blade, but at least they could try to give him a means to defend himself; in doing so, they could lessen the burden and risk on the rest of the Company.

His aspirations were dashed by Bilbo’s next words. “I-I think that I will just stick to sneaking for now, if that’s all right. A sword would be wasted on me,” Bilbo sheepishly decided.

Alaisia pursed her lips unhappily. “All right, then. The offer still stands if you change your mind at some point.”

With that, she promptly stood and made her way back to Thorin. The pair made their way to the back of the campsite and sat down together. Thorin gave her his best _I-told-you-so_ look, one that neither of them had much cause to use in the past as they generally found themselves in agreement. Alaisia grunted.

“You had a point about our burglar,” she conceded in a hushed whisper. “I worry about the burden of his protection, especially given that he apparently has no desire to learn how to protect himself! He has a good heart, and his stealth is promising from what we’ve seen, but those two factors will not keep him alive for long if we face any serious danger. Eventually he _must_ learn some self-defense skills for all of our sakes.”

“Perhaps we can convince Gandalf to intervene considering it was his idea to bring a defenseless Hobbit along in the first place,” Thorin suggested as he stroked the surface of Alaisia’s hair.

The long braid Alaisia kept her hair in on the road in prevented it from getting tangled and snarled in the rain, but Thorin missed being able to card his fingers through her wavy locks. Alaisia sighed and leaned into Thorin’s touch. No one in the group was paying any heed to the couple, so Thorin pulled Alaisia into his lap and looped his arms around her. She happily snuggled into the warmth of Thorin’s chest. For a few blissful moments, Thorin allowed himself to feel at ease and to enjoy the sensation of Alaisia’s body pressed comfortingly against his own.

* * *

**Alaisia’s POV**

That night, Alaisia and Dwalin took the first watch. Alaisia paced quietly through the woods just beyond the campsite as she watched for any potential sign of danger, and Dwalin patrolled the opposite side of the camp; their fellow travelers had long since succumbed to sleep. Thankfully, the torrential rain finally ceased slightly before Alaisia and Dwalin’s watch began, but the ground was still mucky and waterlogged.

Shadows of tree branches danced in the moonlight that managed to break through the cloudy gloom that hung over the forest. So far, there was no apparent sign of trouble. The night was quiet, almost eerily so, with nary an owl hooting. Knowing her watch was due to end soon, Alaisia began to pick her way carefully through the muddy forest terrain toward the dim campfire that still glowed faintly. She caught Dwalin’s movement a few yards away as he mirrored her steps back toward the camp.

The two Dwarves were nearing the rest of the group when they heard a sudden _splash_ in the distance. Footsteps—two pairs, judging by the sound—thudded heavily toward Alaisia and Dwalin’s location. Alaisia caught glimpse of a glint of metal and leapt behind a large tree, signaling Dwalin to also take strategic cover.

Alaisia reached for her bow and nocked an arrow, waiting silently to assess the danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you are enjoying the story or if you have any questions/comments/constructive feedback.


	7. Rogues in the Woods

Alaisia breathed as quietly as possible and held her bow tensely drawn as the two figures approached. Her Dwarf eyes allowed her to see well in the dark, granting her the ability to pick out the forms of the mysterious strangers. They were humans, not Orcs as she had first worried when she heard the racket of their approach, but they were fully armed and appeared to be bandits. She knew their kind well, for she encountered a fair share of bandits over her many years of trading goods in the lands to the east of Dvergatal.

Dwalin glanced at her across their small patch of woodland, silently asking her what their plan was. Alaisia shook her head ever so slightly and jerked it in the direction of the approaching rogues, indicating to Dwalin that they should wait and listen for a moment to decide their next steps. No words were needed; Dwalin was like an older brother to Alaisia, and the pair had fought side-by-side on numerous occasions in the past.

As the two humans drew nearer, fragments of their conversation became audible.

“…Haven’t found a solid mark in weeks,” one complained bitterly.

“We’ll find something soon,” the other mumbled without much confidence.

 _That confirms my suspicions,_ Alaisia thought darkly. She centered herself behind the broad tree trunk she was using as cover to ensure that she was out their line of sight. Her actions would depend on the next words of those approaching. If they turned away, she had no need to kill them. Alaisia had no qualms about killing foes when necessary, but she preferred to avoid violence if at all possible. _Perhaps simply frightening them will prove sufficient._ Dwalin was similarly huddled behind a tree, his hands resting behind his head on the handles of the twin fighting axes he kept strapped to his back.

“Krug, look over there!” The quieter fellow exclaimed in a hushed voice. “There are Dwarves sleeping—d’you think we can steal some loot from ‘em?”

 _They are now close enough to see Thorin and the others,_ Alaisia realized with alarm. She prepared to fire a warning shot, but she paused when the other bandit spoke.

“Oi! Ingrun, isn’t that sleeping Dwarf the bloke that the half-blind Orc wanted dead? Fella was offering a handsome reward to anyone who could kill ‘im. I’ll make a pretty penny if I can manage this. Shouldn’t be a problem—he’s a sitting duck at the moment.” Krug ran forward, closer to passing between the trees where Dwalin and Alaisia were lingering in wait.

The memory of the bounty Gandalf warned Thorin about drifted back into Alaisia’s mind at Ingrun’s words. A cold chill washed over her as it was apparent that these humans were likely discussing Thorin and an Orc the Dwarves had not encountered in a very long time.

She had no time to worry about that in the moment, though. Alaisia sprang out from behind the tree and swiftly released the arrow she had nocked, sending it flying into the throat of the burglar named Krug. He sputtered for a moment, blood bubbling at his mouth, before he crumpled to the ground. Dwalin leapt out and hit Ingrun in the head with the base of one of his axes’ handles.

“This one seemed less dangerous, so I thought I’d just knock him out so that we can question him,” Dwalin explained to Alaisia as he sheathed his axes and disarmed the unconscious criminal.

“Good call,” Alaisia remarked as she took a short sword that Dwalin handed to her. They needed to learn what this human could tell them about the bounty. He did not strike Alaisia as a particularly effective thief based on his earlier lack of confidence, and while he was armed, he was not as heavily muscled as his companion Krug. Unarmed, Ingrun would be of little threat to Alaisia, Dwalin, and all of the others back at the camp.

Dwalin began hauling Ingrun back to the camp, and Alaisia followed after scanning the woods for any sign of other bandits. Alaisia deposited the sword belonging to Ingrun on the ground and reached into one of the ponies’ packs to retrieve a roll of rope that she tossed over to Dwalin so that he could tie up their captive. Seeing that their quarry was effectively secured, Alaisia and Dwalin set about waking up the others to explain the situation.

Thorin was still sleeping peacefully, for he was exhausted from not having slept well for several nights prior to this one. Alaisia was reluctant to disturb Thorin’s slumber as he desperately needed to rest, but considering that the current situation directly involved his safety, it was important that he be awake to hear what the captive could tell them. Alaisia knelt down and pressed a kiss to Thorin’s cheek. She stroked his lips with her thumb as his sleep-laden eyes opened to meet hers.

“What is it, love?” He asked with a furrowed brow upon observing the tense look on Alaisia’s face. “Was there trouble?”

 _Damn my open-book face,_ Alaisia thought regretfully. She was not particularly skilled at schooling her face into a neutral expression.

“Everything is fine at the moment,” Alaisia reassured Thorin. “Two bandits approached our camp, one of whom spoke of killing you for a bounty. I silenced him with an arrow. Dwalin took the other one—Ingrun—captive so that we could question him. Ingrun is tied up over there,” Alaisia said as she jerked her head in the direction of the captured rogue.

“You’re all right, though?” Thorin asked earnestly as he sat up and rested his hands tenderly on Alaisia’s waist. His eyes swept over her, scanning for any sign of harm. He made no mention of the bounty.

 _Thorin’s life is the one at risk due to a bounty set by an Orc, yet he is still more worried about my safety than about his own!_ Alaisia thought in disbelief. She squeezed Thorin’s arm gently and kissed him.

“I’m fine…I’m just worried about your safety, Thorin,” Alaisia whispered. _Especially if the Orc behind this is Bolg_.

“You do not need to worry about me,” Thorin stubbornly insisted. “We will look out for each other, just as we always have.”

Alaisia answered him with a tight hug and buried her face into his chest. She felt Thorin’s lips brush sweetly over the top of her head in reassurance. His gesture ebbed the tide of Alaisia’s concern somewhat, but the commotion that the other members of their group were causing as Dwalin roused them and told them about the thieves disrupted the King and Queen’s small moment of peace.

Huffing out a sigh, Alaisia reluctantly released Thorin. “Are you ready to go question our captive?”

A grim determination settled over Thorin’s features. “Aye, we must get to the bottom of this; if we can learn for sure who is after me, we can better prepare ourselves.”

 _He’s right, of course. Worrying never solves anything._ This particular problem was one that could only be solved with the tip of an arrow or a well-sharpened sword.

It seemed they might have to wait to interrogate the prisoner, though, for in spite of the ruckus of fourteen Dwarves, a wizard, and a Hobbit, the prisoner was still out cold.

Bofur strolled over to the captive and nudged him with the toe of his boot. “Bloody hell! Just how hard did you hit him, Dwalin? In this state this bloke could sleep through a Durin’s Day drinking contest!”

“Hard enough,” Dwalin growled as he looked at the bound human in disgust.

“How in Middle-earth do you expect us to question him in this condition? Let me see if I have any smelling salts in my medical kit…” Oin muttered in exasperation.

“There is no need, Master Oin! I can rouse this fellow myself,” Gandalf declared. He marched over to Ingrun and placed his hand over the crook’s face as he mumbled an incantation in Elvish. His efforts succeeded, for the criminal’s eyes flew open in alarm.

“Hey! Hey, where am I, and why am I tied up? I was walking through the woods with Krug, and then…oh,” Ingrun’s voice trailed off. His face turned the color of freshly fallen snow.

“Remembered things, have you?” Alaisia said as she stalked over to Ingrun. Her concern over Thorin’s safety had tempered into a cold and calculating anger. She leveled a steely glare at the rogue. This man might know who wanted her husband dead, and Alaisia needed that information.

She intended to kill the creature responsible for the death warrant on her King.

Ingrun recovered from his shock enough to speak somewhat coherent sentences. “Krug…Krug is _dead_! An arrow went through him, but I never saw who shot it!”

“Oh, that was me,” Alaisia whispered nonchalantly. She quirked her lips upward in a small smile.

Ingrun gaped like a fish for a moment, looked around frantically, and only just then seemed to register how vastly outnumbered he was. “P-p-please don’t kill me too! I p-promise I won’t steal anything or hurt anyone. Honestly, I’m not even a very good burglar. I was just looking for a way to make some quick coin, y’see? Krug was the hardened criminal, not me! It was _his_ idea to try to kill that Dwarf. I’m not a murderer…” The poor chap babbled some more after that, but nothing else was very intelligible.

Alaisia made eye contact with Thorin and nodded her head slightly, indicating that it was time for him to take over. They had used this approach before on the rare occasions they had to take captives at Dvergatal, and each had experience in questioning foes from their days in Dunland.

“If you want to live, talk to him,” Alaisia pointed at Thorin. “I don’t care much one way or another.”

With that, Alaisia abruptly walked away and stood next to her two nephews, though she made certain that Ingrun was still in her line of sight. Fili, Kili, and Alaisia kept their hands on their sword hilts as they watched Thorin approach the captive.

“Your name is Ingrun, correct?” Thorin checked.

The prisoner nodded mutely.

“I agree with your earlier words. You do not look like a thief to me. Perhaps you had an unfortunate turn of events in life and decided to try to make a dishonest living; in truth, it does not matter to me. We wish to be on our way, and to be on our way safely. If you answer my questions truthfully, my companions and I would be happy to let you go—without your blade, of course,” Thorin offered.

“What questions do you have?” Ingrun cautiously asked.

“Am I the Dwarf that your companion desired to kill?” Thorin bluntly questioned.

Ingrun gulped nervously. “Y-yes, you are. Your description matches a bounty—short of stature, dark hair with streaks of silver, noble bearing. If you are Thorin Oakenshield, then Krug was right. Not about killing you, of course! Just about you being the one referenced in the bounty.” His eyes darted around nervously before settling on Thorin once more.

“Aye, I bear that name. Who would have my life extinguished? Do you have a name for the culprit?” Thorin probed urgently.

“B-B-Bolg,” Ingrun choked out. “An Orc named Bolg. He sent a band of Orcs through my village and posted notices in Orcish and in the Common Tongue that he wants you dead. Not sure why he’s out to get you, though.”

“Revenge,” Thorin bit out under his breath. He cast a grave look back at Alaisia.

Alaisia only dimly registered the angry snarl that Dwalin released and the sharp breath that Gandalf drew in. _It is as I feared, then. Bolg has decided now is the time to exact his revenge, and by the sound of what Ingrun told us, he is not alone. His forces may be hunting us as we speak._

Thankfully Dvergatal was well-defended if Bolg decided to seek vengeance by marching on the new kingdom that Thorin and Alaisia established, so Alaisia did not have to fret over the safety of her parents, children, and sister-in-law.

She just had a very stubborn husband to protect against his own rashness and a pack of Orcs that needed to be slain as expediently as possible. A twinge of pain suddenly shot through her knuckles, and it was only then that Alaisia realized she was gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. She relaxed her grip fractionally, though she remained tense and on alert.

They needed to take extra care in their nighttime watches in light of Ingrun’s tidings.

The prisoner-turned-informant shifted uncomfortably in his bindings. “Will you release me now? I kept up my end of the bargain,” he tentatively said.

Thorin heaved out a sigh, his mind clearly still distracted by the news of Bolg’s return as he wordlessly moved to untie Ingrun. Before Thorin’s hands reached the rope, though, Gandalf interrupted.

“Not yet, Thorin!” Gandalf called out as he ambled over to Thorin and Ingrun. “I need to make sure that this man shall not immediately run to Bolg or one of his Orc underlings with word of our whereabouts.”

Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows knitted together as he stared intently at Ingrun. He rapped his staff on the ground to get Ingrun’s attention, earning a small _squeak_ of alarm. “Young man, I am a wizard. Do you know what that means?”

“You…you can cast spells?” Ingrun meekly attempted.

“Among other things,” Gandalf muttered. “This group is under my protection, do you understand? If I hear of you telling Bolg (or any other Orc, mind you) of our presence here—and I _would_ hear if it happened, for I am a wizard—I can do much worse than turn you into a croaking frog.”

Alaisia stifled a giggle at Gandalf’s bluff (at least, she _thought_ it was a bluff, but then again Gandalf could be quite moody at times) and the appalled reaction the wizard drew from Ingrun.

“I won’t breathe a word of our meeting to anyone! You have my word. I just want to go home,” Ingrun vowed.

“Excellent!” Gandalf beamed. “Thorin, unbind this fellow and send him on his merry way. We’ll keep his sword.”

Ingrun fled into the woods as soon as he was free without so much as a backward glance.

“Mister Gandalf, can you actually turn people into frogs?” Dori politely enquired once Ingrun was well out of earshot.

“To be quite honest, I have not yet tried!” Gandalf responded cheerfully. “Our acquaintance Ingrun didn’t know that though, so it worked quite effectively in my efforts to ensure his silence.”

“Thank you for that, Gandalf,” Alaisia murmured quietly. She was grateful that Ingrun would pose no threat, either directly or indirectly through informing Bolg of his encounter with Thorin, but she wished that Ingrun could have provided more detailed information. How many Orcs marched with Bolg? The Battle of Azanulbizar took place decades ago. There had been more than enough time for the Orcs that survived the bloodshed to fester and multiply in the Misty Mountains. It was entirely possible that Bolg might find Thorin first and choose to ambush the Company.

Alaisia almost wished that they could simply find Bolg now to confront him rather than delay the inevitable.

Gandalf clasped Alaisia’s shoulder gently, disrupting her train of thought. “You and Thorin did a fine job of getting information out of our former captive. I know that you both want Bolg dead, but it is safe to assume that Bolg does not yet know our precise location, even if he has learned that you departed Dvergatal. For now, we must press on. We cannot waste time hunting Orc-scum.”

The wizard was right, of course. They had a clear destination and path, but Bolg could be anywhere in the West of Middle-earth or in the Misty Mountains at the moment. There was no sense in attempting to track him, particularly given that they had no idea how many Orcs were with him. It would distract the Company from their mission to reach Erebor.

That did not make Gandalf’s words, or the prospect of waiting for their foe to find them first, any easier to swallow.

Bilbo cleared his throat anxiously. “Can someone explain to me who Bolg is? I gathered that he is an Orc, and that he wants revenge, but I do not understand the context I’m afraid,” Bilbo asked.

“Have you heard of the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs?” Balin asked patiently.

“Yes, my mother used to tell me stories about the history of Middle-earth, and I remember her mentioning a great conflict between Dwarves and Orcs in this age,” Bilbo replied. “I don’t know much about the specifics, just that the Dwarves won in the end, and that the Orc population was decimated.”

Balin nodded, stroking his beard in thought before he continued. “Aye, but not without great cost to our side. The War culminated in the Battle of Azanulbizar, a chaotic affair that we were ill-prepared for. All of our armies were gathered, but we had not done enough to deplete our enemy’s numbers in engagements ere the final battle. Their leader-”

Thorin’s thudding footsteps caused Balin to halt his explanation.

“I do not mind telling Bilbo the tale of that battle, Thorin. I know that it pains you to speak of it,” Balin kindly offered.

Thorin grimaced but remained steadfast. “It does still pain me to remember that day, but I cannot allow myself to forget it, especially now that a ghost from the past has returned to haunt us. I will explain the rest to Bilbo.”

Alaisia joined Thorin and rubbed her hand soothingly over his back. While Thorin seldom spoke directly of Azanulbizar, the memory of that day ravaged his dreams fairly often still. He relaxed fractionally into Alaisia’s touch, took a deep breath, and addressed Bilbo.

“A scarred and battle-hardened pale Orc by the name of Azog led the opposing forces. In the midst of the battle, Azog roared and charged directly at me. I steeled myself for a fight, but my grandfather—King Thror—reached me before Azog could. My grandfather shoved me out of the way, to safety, and took the full brunt of Azog's onslaught. They fought, but Azog overpowered the King. Azog beheaded my grandfather and tossed his severed head at my feet. Behind me, Azog’s son Bolg had seized my younger brother Frerin, and I turned just in time to see Frerin impaled on Bolg’s blade.”

Bilbo’s eyes widened in horror at Thorin’s description of the battle. “You had a brother?” Bilbo asked softly, his eyes moistened with tears. “I am so sorry, Thorin.” He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but he closed it with a slight shake of his head.

What other words of comfort could you give to someone who watched the death of his grandfather and brother mere moments apart?

“Yes,” Thorin uttered hoarsely, his voice hardly rising above a whisper. All of Thorin’s irritation with Bilbo seemed forgotten in the moment, for he was filled with grief over the murder of his kin.

“Frerin was reckless, but he was _good_. He deserved to live a full life, to have a wife and children, to know a future other than the exile we were living in, but Bolg cut Frerin’s time in Middle-earth short. I should have been able to protect him. I failed him,” Thorin muttered bitterly.

Alaisia knew that Thorin still struggled with guilt over not being able to protect his little brother, but it distressed her to hear him say it. Truthfully, she still blamed herself for Frerin’s death. The memory of her last moments with Frerin reared its ugly head to taunt Alaisia once more.

_Alaisia growled in rage and struggled to make her way toward Thorin, but she found herself blocked by a mass of Dwarves and Orcs locked in combat in front of her. One Orc kicked Alaisia from behind, but it was swiftly felled by a familiar face._

_“Frerin!” Alaisia exclaimed. “I’m trying to reach Thorin-”_

_“Me too,” Frerin shouted, “You hold these Orcs off.”_

_“Frerin, no. It is too dangerous! I will go to Thorin. You’ll be safer back here.”_

_“He is my brother—let me go to him. Trust me, Alaisia, and watch my back.”_

Alaisia had tried, Mahal she had _tried_ , to guard Frerin from any threats, but the chaos on the battlefield separated her from him. While Alaisia was able to fend off quite a few of the Orcs that gave chase to Frerin, she was not able to reach him in time to protect him from Bolg. Alaisia and Thorin were not yet engaged at the time, but she loved Frerin like a little brother, just as she loved Dis like a little sister. 

Thorin never blamed Alaisia. He always insisted that there was nothing that she could have done; that it was his duty to be at his brother’s side. Over the years, Thorin and Alaisia had settled into the habit of not discussing Azanulbizar, of only remembering Frerin in better times. It was simply too painful to consider the memory of that fateful battle.

Remembering what happened now, fresh off the news that Bolg was now hunting them, felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

So quietly that Alaisia could barely hear him, Bilbo hesitantly posed another question. “What happened to Azog?”

“I slew Azog. I plunged my sword, Deathless, into the pale Orc’s wretched heart,” Thorin answered simply. “That is why Bolg feels entitled to _revenge_ , even though he and his accursed father desired to end the line of Durin. Why Bolg waited so long is beyond my understanding, but I will gladly kill the Orc-scum the second the chance arises.”

A somber silence descended upon the Company. Bilbo appeared particularly pensive, no doubt concerned about the fact that a murderous Orc and his henchmen were lurking somewhere in the wild. Ori also looked nervous.

“After all of that, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep now,” Ori mumbled. Several of the Dwarves murmured in agreement.

Gandalf leaned on his staff as he contemplated the situation. “Perhaps, since we are all quite awake from our midnight interrogation, we should move on. It would be wise for us to stay off the main road from now on, though. We can still follow its course more or less, but if Bolg is seeking us varying our path may help us remain undetected.”

“I concur, Gandalf. We should mount our ponies and put as much distance as possible between us and this place. Tomorrow we can break early to recover, and hopefully enjoy a better night’s rest,” Thorin suggested. “If all are in agreement?”

No protests were voiced. Gandalf, the Dwarves, and Bilbo hastily packed their belongings, but Dwalin paused when he lifted the sword confiscated from Ingrun off of the ground.

“This sword is rubbish. None of us have any use for it—our weapons are much finer,” Dwalin opined.

He appeared ready to toss it into the trees, but Gandalf had other plans.

“Bring me that thief’s blade, Master Dwalin,” Gandalf requested, “It may yet prove useful for one among us.” A mischievous glint flickered in the wizard’s eyes as they settled on a certain Hobbit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sword from Ingrun isn't Sting, but Sting will be found soon as per canon. I wrote about the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs in A Journey of Light and Shadow Chapters 31-36 if you are interested in reading more about Thorin and Alaisia's experiences during that conflict. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'll be back next Thursday with another update.


	8. Stick ‘em with the pointy end

**Alaisia’s POV**

By the time the members of the Company reached a suitable campsite the next day, they were all thoroughly exhausted. Alaisia wistfully reminisced about the delectable taste of coffee and fervently wished that she had some in her possession. The aromatic beverage was relatively commonplace during her upbringing in Dale due to the city’s extensive trade network, but it was only a rare luxury in Dvergatal. Coffee might have spared her the embarrassment of almost falling off of her pony due to nodding off, which happened not once, but _twice_ over the course of the day.

Alaisia stifled a yawn as she watched Bombur, by far the best chef among them, cook dinner with his brother Bofur at his side.

“I’m absolutely starving,” Bombur grumbled. “What I wouldn’t give for some salted pork right now…”

“Oh yes, and a mug of ale too, brother,” Bofur nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

Alaisia’s stomach grumbled plaintively in response. _Great, now I am craving coffee_ and _salted pork_. She and her companions were not short on food by any means, but they had packed select ingredients in bulk for efficiency, so there was little variety to their meals. Everything was delicious as it was prepared by Bombur—and he could make even stale bread taste appetizing, Alaisia warranted—but Alaisia still missed the kitchens of Dvergatal. She decided to divert her attention before any more cravings of food currently beyond her reach arose.

Gandalf soon gave her a distraction.

“Alaisia!” He merrily hailed her. “Thorin told me that you wanted Bilbo to be able to defend himself, and thanks to the attempted burglary yesterday, we now find ourselves with a spare blade. I’ve convinced Bilbo that he needs to learn how to wield it, but he still needs a teacher. Would you mind helping him?”

Bilbo stared at Alaisia apprehensively. It seemed that he was still reluctant to learn how to fight, but at least he had agreed that it was necessary. However incremental it might be, it was progress. Alaisia supposed she should be grateful that Bilbo wanted to learn at all, and she suspected that the previous night’s close call with the bandits played a part in swaying Bilbo’s opinion.

“I shall do my best to teach him. Come, Bilbo, we can start with the basics before dinner.”

Alaisia motioned for Bilbo to follow her to the edge of the camp. She cast a melancholy glance at her husband who was brooding in another corner of the camp, oblivious to the goings-on around him. Bilbo noticed Thorin’s temperament as well.

“Thorin seems to be in an ill mood,” Bilbo whispered furtively. “Is he all right?”

“Azanulbizar is a sore spot for him. It is still difficult to talk about for all of us who survived it. Many Dwarves perished on the field of battle, and we were unable to take up residence in our ancestral home of Khazad-dum, which was one of the goals of our military effort. Thorin’s father Thrain also went missing after the battle and has not been seen since. We still don’t know if he is dead or alive,” Alaisia explained sorrowfully.

“You were at Azanulbizar too?”

“Yes, as were Dwalin, Balin, Oin, and Gloin,” Alaisia revealed.

Bilbo looked at Alaisia and then at the other members of the Company who fought in the final battle of the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs with awe. “It does make me feel safer knowing that there are many capable warriors among us, but still…I do not wish to be a burden, any more than I already am. I must learn how to defend myself as best I can, even if I am a bit uneasy about it.”

Alaisia’s stomach twisted uncomfortably upon hearing Bilbo describe himself as a burden. He would be of little help to them if he lacked any semblance of self-confidence. “Do not feel that you are a burden, Bilbo. You have a valuable part to play in our quest, and you have already demonstrated your prowess at sneaking.”

The Hobbit shifted nervously on his feet and glanced at Alaisia skeptically. Alaisia sighed in response. _Poor Bilbo. All of this is new to him—never before has he had to face real danger. He has never had to consider the prospect of killing an enemy to avoid being killed himself._ Patience would be of the utmost priority in training him.

Alaisia started Bilbo off slowly on some basic lessons about form and safety: the proper way to hold the sword, the importance of a balanced stance, and how to move safely with the sword in tow, among other topics. While the weight of the sword was far from optimal for Bilbo’s small stature, it seemed to serve him well enough for these basic lessons. Feeling ambitious, Alaisia called out to Bilbo.

“Try a practice swing with it now,” Alaisia ordered. She demonstrated the movement she wished for the Hobbit to mimic using her sword. Bilbo watched, his eyes furrowed in concentration, then took a deep breath as he prepared to attempt the exercise.

He swung the sword forward…and promptly stumbled to the ground with a resounding _thunk_. The weight of the sword caused him to lose his balance entirely.

“Bilbo!” Alaisia exclaimed in alarm. _At least the sword has fallen to the side and didn’t injure Bilbo in the fall,_ she thought with relief as she ran over to the Company’s burglar. She hauled Bilbo up and released him once he seemed sure of his footing. The little fellow was covered in a thin layer of mud and leaves from head to hairy toes.

Bilbo laughed nervously. “Perhaps I can try that again, _without_ falling this time,” he suggested.

He did try again, and again, and many more times thereafter over the next few days, but his efforts were to little avail. While Bilbo eventually ceased falling, he continued to flail about rather ineffectively with the sword. Initially, Alaisia hoped that Bilbo’s clumsiness was merely the mark of someone not practiced in the art of wielding a sword and that he would improve with practice, but Bilbo consistently failed to improve. It became apparent that no matter how much time invested in training him by Alaisia—or Dwalin, Fee, and Kee for that matter, as they stepped in to help—Bilbo would not be able to use his current blade. He needed a lighter, well-balanced blade, not the veritable hunk of scrap metal that formerly belonged to Ingrun.

Alaisia told Thorin as much when she sank into their shared bedroll for the night after another unsuccessful attempt at teaching Bilbo how to use his sword. Thorin snaked his arm around Alaisia and brushed his fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Perhaps the Elves of Rivendell will have something that may be of use to Bilbo,” Thorin suggested.

“Of course! Their swords are _much_ lighter,” Alaisia responded enthusiastically. “So, we only have to make it to Rivendell without Bilbo being able to properly defend himself. It should be easy enough to keep one Hobbit alive for that long...I hope.”

There was a silent question in Alaisia’s voice seeking reassurance from Thorin. No immediate danger had presented itself since the Company dealt with the two rogues, but the memory of Ingrun’s words about Bolg weighed heavily on Alaisia’s mind. She had grown fond of Bilbo—while he was rather timid, Alaisia sensed a certain courage concealed within him—and she did not wish for him to come to harm on a quest to aid people he only recently met. Gandalf had consented to taking primary responsibility for Bilbo’s safety, but Gandalf was not at the Hobbit’s side constantly. The wizard had taken to wandering ahead some evenings either on foot or on his horse to scout the path ahead. Tonight was one such night.

Thorin hummed thoughtfully at Alaisia’s words. “Do not worry overmuch about the halfling. As you said, we do not have far to go to Rivendell now. If we face little peril on the way, all shall be well. He may even decide he’s had quite enough of our ‘adventure’ and elect to return home.”

 _Little danger seems wishful thinking considering how trouble often seems drawn to us, but I suppose we can always hope_ , Alaisia mused resignedly. Thorin’s caresses and his lips on Alaisia’s neck soon tore her from her thoughts.

“Neither of us is tasked with standing guard tonight, so we have a rare opportunity to enjoy the entire night at each other’s side, my sweet wife,” Thorin murmured against the base of Alaisia’s neck. His lips blazed a trail upward until they met Alaisia’s lips in a passionate kiss.

 _He does have a point_ , Alaisia acknowledged as she moaned softly and snuck her hand under Thorin’s tunic to stroke his muscular chest. Any protest Alaisia’s mind might have offered to Thorin’s suggestion to relax vanished as she succumbed to the simple pleasure of enjoying the sensation of his mouth on her own. The King and Queen lay facing one another, lazily kissing and nuzzling, until they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

**Thorin’s POV**

Thorin’s eyes snapped open as he startled awake to the chilling sound of wolves howling and snarling. By the sound of it, a whole pack of wolves was lurking in the wilderness nearby. He placed a protective arm over Alaisia, who was still sleeping soundly, and listened intently. For a moment, Thorin hoped that the wolves would not draw near; that they would decide to move on and give the Company some peace for the night. On past trading ventures eastward, Thorin had often heard wolves, but only rarely did wolves actually draw near enough to attack.

These wolves were bolder than most.

Their howls grew louder as they approached, causing the rest of the group to stir from their sleep. Alaisia woke up with a jolt and reached for Thorin’s hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died in her throat when the wolves’ cacophonous noises filled the night air once more. Thorin wished that Gandalf had not chosen this evening to wander ahead, for the wizard’s services would surely be useful in the current predicament. _Blasted wizard, taking flight at the most inopportune of times and leaving us to face a pack of ravenous wolves alone. How considerate of Gandalf,_ Thorin thought drily. As irritated as Thorin was over Gandalf’s inconvenient departure, he could not afford to waste time brooding. There was precious little time to prepare for the arrival of the wolves.

Thorin lithely rose to his feet and offered his hand to Alaisia. The King turned to look upon the rest of the group and watched as his comrades hastily equipped their weapons. Any residual drowsiness was driven off by the rush of adrenaline that gripped the Dwarves and Bilbo at the coming confrontation.

“Form a circle and be ready to fight! We cannot afford to have the wolves sneak up behind us,” Thorin barked out. “Fili, Kili, I want you near Alaisia and I.”

His nephews rushed over, Kili with his bow readied and Fili with his dual swords unsheathed. Alaisia and Thorin also nocked arrows to their bows. Behind them, they heard a nervous yelp.

“Where do you want me to be?” Bilbo shouted.

“My brothers and I will protect you, lad,” Bofur said, gesturing for Bilbo to approach.

“Thank you, but what should I do if the wolves break through our defenses? I have a sword, but goodness knows I can’t use it!” Bilbo exclaimed.

Alaisia leveled a grave look at Bilbo. “You may not have a choice but to use your weapon, Master Baggins. Just stick the wolves with the pointy end, and if all else fails hide yourself.”

Bifur chimed in with words of encouragement in Khuzdul as he patted Bilbo reassuringly on the back. Bilbo’s face was pale even in the moonlight, and Thorin could see the fear that gripped the Company’s burglar. _So much for facing little danger on our way to Rivendell_ , Thorin thought with a sigh of regret.

He only hoped that this encounter would not prematurely terminate their burglar’s contract or lead to the death of his protectors.

Thorin’s attention snapped back to the tree line in front of him where the sinister forms of wolves emerged snarling and snapping. A silver-haired wolf appeared to be the leader of the pack of approximately twenty wolves, all of whom were now stalking forward in a semicircle. The moonlight and the light of the campfire combined to cast the wolves’ eerie shadows across the clearing as they prowled forward. By the bloodlust in their eyes, it was readily apparent that these wolves had no intent to back down from the fight. Thorin steeled himself and drew his bow; at his side, he detected the swift motion of Alaisia and Kili doing the same.

Together, the three of them loosed their arrows, and chaos broke out.

Two of the lesser wolves fell with the shots fired by Thorin and Alaisia, but Kili had aimed his arrow at the alpha wolf. While his shot was true, the larger wolf was too strong to be slain by a single blow. The alpha howled in rage and limped slightly while its pack surged toward the Company. Some wolves splintered from the main contingent to charge the rear of the camp, making Thorin grateful for his plan to start the battle in a circular formation. It was clear that the wolves were determined to rapidly close the distance that divided them from the Dwarves, so Thorin stowed his bow and hastily drew Deathless from its sheath.

He raised his blade just in time to meet the gnashing teeth of a wolf that leapt at him. Thorin growled and pushed the wolf back with his sword. When the wolf steadied itself and attacked once more, Thorin was prepared. He spun at the last minute, disorienting the wolf and providing himself an opening to stab the wolf in its side. Thorin grunted and yanked his blade free from the wolf’s flesh. The injured wolf jerked its head around in an attempt to snap at Thorin, but Thorin adeptly dodged the strike and plunged Deathless deep into the wolf’s neck to finish it. It collapsed to the ground with a heavy _thud_.

The din of battle roared in Thorin’s ears. All around him he heard the shouts of other members of the Company, the clang of metal, and the _yips_ and _yowls_ of the wolves as they fought and fell. One howl broke above the clamor, though, and Thorin turned to see a wolf stalking toward him with its hackles raised. It puffed out an angry breath as its eyes darted to its fallen comrade at Thorin’s feet and poised itself to run forward. Before the wolf could act on this impulse, however, Alaisia ran to it and assailed it with her sword. She slashed at the wolf with Dauntless, the twin blade to Thorin’s Deathless, and delivered a kick to the wolf’s leg with her armored boots. The wolf opened its maw wide as it snarled ferociously at Alaisia, but its attempt at intimidation failed. Alaisia took the chance to drive her blade into the wolf’s mouth to finish it off. She withdrew her blade from the wolf’s lifeless form and returned to Thorin’s side.

The King and Queen stood with their backs pressed together and their blades drawn as they scanned their campsite-turned-battlefield to decide their next move. Corpses of wolves already slain by their fellow Dwarves were scattered in the vicinity of the fire, but several of the other wolves remained embroiled in combat with Thorin’s companions. Thorin desperately wanted to find his nephews, for though they had started the encounter near him, Fili and Kili had since strayed. He scoured his surroundings for any sign of them, but they did not appear to be among the rest of the Company.

At last, Thorin spotted Fili and Kili near the trees, where they were taking on the alpha wolf alone.

The silver-colored wolf was much larger and cut a far more imposing figure compared to the other wolves in the pack. It would have made for a formidable foe if it were not for the arrow that Kili skillfully lodged in its shoulder earlier. While the alpha wolf still fought tooth and nail, _yipping_ and snapping at Fili and Kili, it did not possess its full strength. Kili stabbed the wolf with his sword, and Fili completed the kill by slashing the alpha with his dual blades. It fell with a final whimper, and when Thorin made eye contact with his nephews he graced them with a hint of a smile and an approving nod.

 _Victory is almost certain now. We have already killed many of their rank, and with the alpha wolf dead, the other wolves have no leader to follow_ , Thorin triumphantly reflected. He was so confident in their eminent victory that he did not see the glint of wolf eyes among the trees by Fili and Kili.

One wolf leapt out at Kili, whose sword was still resting in the body of the alpha wolf. The rest of the Company’s Dwarves were too far away to offer any assistance, but Fili hacked at the wolf’s legs to distract it, granting Alaisia just enough time to pull out her bow and shoot the wolf. That wolf fell at Kili’s feet; however, several more emerged from the woods to replace it.

Thorin cursed under his breath. He thought that there were only twenty wolves and had not anticipated the possibility of more wolves concealing themselves in the surrounding woods. Alaisia switched back to her blade, and together the couple made their way over to their beloved nephews with their swords drawn, ready to slay the remaining wolves.

Together, Thorin, Alaisia, Fili, and Kili slashed at the wolves and blocked gnashing teeth with their blades. The wolves were relentless in their attempts to make a kill. One wolf lunged at Thorin with its fangs bared while Thorin was tugging his sword free from the wolf he had just defeated, but Kili stabbed it in its haunch and Alaisia brought Dauntless down on the offending wolf’s neck with a growl of rage. Another wolf jumped toward Thorin, but he ducked and impaled the wolf’s chest with Deathless. With those maneuvers, all of the wolves save one were dead. A lone wolf tried to escape, but it did not make it very far—it collided violently with the ground when Fili’s hunting knives soared through the air and landed in the wolf’s neck.

“That was an excellent throw, Fili,” Thorin declared as he clapped his eldest nephew on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Fili beamed with pride.

Alaisia hugged both of her nephews and fussed over them like a mother hen for a few moments, checking them carefully for any signs of harm in spite of their assurances that they were uninjured. Thorin did not blame Alaisia for being extra cautious, for Fili and Kili shared a stubborn tendency to downplay injury and illness. Besides, Thorin found the sight rather endearing, and he could not help but smile when he thought of how Dis would approve. Once Alaisia was satisfied that Fili and Kili were truly well, she released them with an affectionate ruffle of their hair. Thorin, Alaisia, Fili, and Kili all retrieved their weapons and strode back to the campfire to join the rest of the Company. As Thorin’s eyes darted around the campsite, he saw that the others had managed to finish off the rest of the pack of wolves. All Dwarves were accounted for and—miraculously—mostly uninjured, though Dori and Gloin both received mild scratches. Oin was already seeing to both of them with his medical supplies.

However, there was one noticeable absence as Thorin looked around the camp that left a pit of dread in his stomach.

Bilbo Baggins was nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist including a small Game of Thrones reference in "stick 'em with the pointy end."
> 
> Also, I apologize for the cliff-hanger! I'll update again in a week. Thank you so much for reading! I'm so grateful to those of you who have left kudos or bookmarked this work thus far-knowing that people are enjoying this story makes writing it all the more rewarding.


	9. Down from the Ettenmoors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin, Alaisia, and the others search for their missing Hobbit and encounter some danger in the process.
> 
> Today's POV is entirely Thorin's.

**Thorin’s POV**

“Bilbo! Where is Bilbo?” Thorin barked out. Dread coiled in his stomach as he scanned the camp once more and still saw no sign of the Hobbit. Had their burglar gotten himself killed _already_ , or did he simply flee and hide when the fighting started?

Bofur called out to him. “My brothers and I were watching over Bilbo at the beginning of the battle. At some point we heard a few of the ponies _neigh_ frantically, and the next thing I knew Bilbo was gone! He must have slipped away to try to comfort or protect them. We were tied up fighting wolves so we couldn’t chase after the lad.”

The wolves appeared so singularly focused on the Company that Thorin had not even spared any thought for the defense of the ponies; indeed, everything happened so quickly that there simply was not enough time to plan. However, given that more wolves emerged from the woods to attack Fee and Kee, it was entirely possible that other wolves were lurking about and that they decided to charge the ponies. The ponies would have been would be easy targets for hungry wolves, for they were simply tied to trees. If Bilbo tried to intervene…

Thorin did not want to finish that thought.

A few paces away, Bombur let out a heavy sigh. “We’re sorry,” he whispered with his head hung low.

The guilt that was writ clear in Bombur’s face, much like the guilt that was gnawing a pit in Thorin’s own stomach, angered Thorin. He did not want anyone in the Company—other than Gandalf, of course—to feel responsible for Bilbo’s fate, yet how could they _not_ be responsible for Bilbo’s fate when he relied upon them for protection? Bilbo was woefully unqualified for a trek across Middle-earth, yet Gandalf insisted on the Hobbit joining their quest.

Now Bilbo might be dead. And no matter how much Thorin tried to tell himself it was not his fault, no matter how much he tried to blame it on Gandalf’s absence, he failed to stave off his guilt.

 _This is_ precisely _why I was against bringing Bilbo along_ , Thorin grumbled internally.

“It is not your fault, Bombur, nor is it Bofur’s or Bifur’s fault. We…we have to go to the ponies and investigate the scene,” Thorin declared uneasily.

Unpleasant images flashed through Thorin’s mind of the Company’s burglar torn apart by wolves. He exchanged a grave look with Alaisia who was ashen-faced beside him. Alaisia gripped Thorin’s hand tightly. Judging from the look on her face, she feared much the same as Thorin—that their burglar had met an untimely end in an attempt to save the ponies. Thorin struggled to think of what words of comfort he could offer Alaisia, but nothing came to his mind, so he simply gave her hand the best reassuring squeeze he could muster. He reluctantly dropped her hand, readied his blade, and gestured for the Company to follow him to the ponies. The whole camp reeked of death due to the corpses of wolves that were scattered across the ground. Each step Thorin took felt as if it were weighed down by an anvil.

When at last Thorin and the others reached the site where they had secured the ponies, a macabre sight greeted them.

Three ponies lay dead on the ground, blood oozing from their bodies into the damp earth. Dori’s pony Chamomile, Ori’s pony Magnolia, and Bilbo’s pony Myrtle had all succumbed to wolf-inflicted wounds. To make matters worse, the remainder of the ponies— _and_ all of the supplies they carried—had vanished without a trace. Poor Ori broke down in tears at the sight of his deceased pony, and his shoulders heaved with silent sobs. Dori rushed to comfort his younger brother even though he was in shock at his own pony’s passing.

Bilbo was not present to shed tears over his pony, but Alaisia sighed sadly as she looked upon the creature’s corpse.

“Bilbo was quite fond of Myrtle, no matter how much he complained about horse-hair allergies at the start of our journey,” Alaisia wistfully explained to Thorin as she rested her head glumly on his shoulder and slipped an arm around him. “I caught him sneaking her extra apples and sugar cubes on more than one occasion.”

“Auntie, Uncle, you don’t think—” Kili began softly. He did not finish the sentence, but from the way his countenance was creased with concern Thorin and Alaisia understood the lad’s meaning.

“I don’t know, Kee,” Alaisia honestly replied as she placed a comforting arm around Kili’s shoulders. “It is a good sign that we have yet to find a body, but the bloodshed here does not bode well for Bilbo. If he was caught up in this, if he tried to protect Myrtle from the wolf or wolves…it likely would not have gone well for him.”

Thorin _hoped_ that Bilbo had managed to avoid the same fate as his pony, but it seemed unlikely that Bilbo would be able to fight his way out given what Thorin had seen of his fighting skills.

“Perhaps he’s hiding somewhere, up in the trees or some distance away,” Fili suggested. “Bilbo!” He called out. “If you are hiding yourself, it is safe to come out now. We’ve killed the wolves.”

An owl _hooted_ in response, but no Hobbit appeared. A grim silence descended upon the Dwarves as they strained to listen for a telltale rustle that might give away Bilbo’s approach. Nori did not remain still for long, though. He wandered off from the scene of the ponies’ slaughter, his armored boots crunching leaves and twigs beneath his feet as he searched for a clue.

“Nori, dear brother, would you quit that incessant stomping?” Dori asked irritably. “Some of us are trying to listen for our burglar!”

“Patience, brother! There’s a blood trail here,” Nori called back. “Oi! Come look at this,” he exclaimed suddenly.

The other Dwarves hurried over to Nori to see what he discovered. Thorin’s mouth nearly fell to his feet when he saw what Nori was pointing at. A dead wolf was sprawled unceremoniously at Nori’s feet, and a familiar blade was embedded triumphantly (albeit a _tad_ clumsily) in the wolf’s side.

It was Bilbo’s blade.

“He…he…Bilbo killed a wolf!” Thorin managed to blurt out. He was so shocked at the words coming out of his mouth that he pinched himself to make certain that he was not having a strange dream. The Hobbit seemed woefully inept with his scavenged blade, but he clearly had the ability to summon some skill when it counted. Thorin imagined a small Hobbit, horrified and enraged at the murder of his beloved pony, taking his sword and driving it into the wolf on a rush of fear- and battle-induced adrenaline.

Thorin clapped Alaisia on the shoulder and beamed at his wife in pride. “You trained our burglar well, my love.”

Alaisia shook her head, her eyes still widened in surprise. “I suppose so, though I cannot take all of the credit. Dwalin, Fili, and Kili all stepped in to help train him.”

“I don’t know how the little fellow managed it,” Dwalin added, shaking his head in disbelief at the dead wolf. “He was absolutely _terrible_ with that blade! Maybe he just needed the push of facing real danger to figure it out.”

 _Perhaps I was wrong to have discounted Bilbo’s worth_ , Thorin mused. A small smile quirked at the corner of his mouth.

“Never again shall I doubt the courage of Hobbits,” Balin declared. “However, I would caution us all against being certain of Bilbo’s safety. He killed this wolf, but we do not know if our brave burglar was injured in the process. There is a concerning amount of blood here,” he added worriedly. 

“Can you tell if any of this blood is Bilbo’s, Oin?” Dwalin asked the healer hopefully.

“Of course not, ye old fool! Wolf blood and Hobbit blood look the same to the naked eye,” Oin scoffed, rolling his eyes at Dwalin’s question.

Thorin only half-listened to Dwalin grouse about being dubbed a fool, for his mind was still on Balin’s words. True, the Hobbit emerged victorious against the wolf, but at what cost? The Dwarves could ill afford complacency until they found Bilbo alive or otherwise; however, it was not immediately clear where they should search for the Hobbit. Bilbo’s sword, the last clue in the Dwarves’ possession, proved his presence at their current location at _some_ point in the preceding couple of hours. While Bilbo could not have traveled far, the woods stretched out in every direction. Splitting up the Company was the surest method of locating Bilbo, but Thorin was loathe to divide his forces out of concern that more wolves or some other threat yet unknown might be lurking in the shadows of the forest.

Further complicating matters, the Dwarves had only the light of the moon to judge their surroundings by. They could see better at night compared to humans and Elves, but even the Dwarves would struggle to see the light tracks left by small Hobbit feet.

He was spared the conundrum of deciding on a direction for the group to travel in search of Bilbo when Kili’s keen eyes identified something glowing in the distance.

“Over there!” Kili called eagerly. “There is a light in the woods, perhaps even a campfire, though it is hard to tell from this distance. It might be that Bilbo lost his bearings and started a fire to signal his presence to us.”

“Excellent find, Kee,” Thorin commended his nephew. “That settles matters. We shall make for that light, though I urge you all to use as much stealth as you can muster. That light could be a sign of many things, not all of which include Bilbo’s presence.” Thorin was more cautiously optimistic than Kili, for he knew that the light could well belong to other travelers or even to foes.

The trek to the light that ensued was anything _but_ stealthy. It started out well enough, with many of the Dwarves concentrating on giving their best effort at tip toeing and breathing quietly. With those precautions, however, they moved at a snail’s pace. Soon the Dwarves grew impatient, and as their impatience grew, their stealth waned until they gave up on it entirely and began running. Only Thorin, Alaisia, and Balin took a more restrained approach.

The Dwarves unceremoniously screeched to a halt behind a thicket of trees. When Thorin, Alaisia, and Balin caught up with the others, Kili pointed grimly into the clearing.

Thorin groaned internally at the sight before him. His concerns about finding a campfire created by foes proved valid. Fortunately for the Dwarves, the three trolls that occupied the clearing were far too stupid to notice the stampede of Dwarves that had advanced on their position. The trolls were distracted as they were engaged in a heated debate about their next meal.

“This stew is seasoned right ‘n proper, so quit yer whinging, Tom!” One of the trolls bellowed. The troll he was yelling at—Tom, apparently, which Thorin thought was quite an odd name for a troll—opened his mouth to complain once more and was abruptly _whacked_ upside the head with a crudely fashioned ladle. It seemed the troll with the ladle was a chef of sorts, or at least as much of a chef as a troll could be.

The proceedings were so strange that Thorin momentarily wondered whether he had accidentally eaten a hallucinogenic mushroom.

“You wouldn’t know decent cooking if it hit you in your leathery arse!” The chef-troll continued angrily yelling at Tom. “All this work and no ‘preciation, _humph!_ ”

The third troll rolled his eyes at his companions. “Bert, I think Tom here was trying to say that we should add some of those ponies to the stew. Right, Tom?”

Tom was too busy nursing his wounded jaw to respond, but Bert offered his opinion. “The little horsey fellows are for a special occasion, William!”

Upon hearing the trolls mention ponies, Thorin crept closer to the clearing. He stopped far enough back that the trees mostly shielded him from the vision of the trolls (though they were not paying much attention at any rate) and scanned the clearing for any sign of the ponies’ presence. Thorin’s eyes widened in surprise at what he saw.

There, at the back of the clearing, were Bilbo and all of the surviving ponies. They all appeared to be unharmed, though it was difficult to be certain from a distance. Bilbo was frantically and somewhat clumsily sawing at the rope that restrained the ponies with what appeared to be a troll knife.

It would have made for a comical sight if it were not for the three fully-grown trolls bickering mere paces away.

Thorin tried to wave his arms frantically in an attempt to gesture for Bilbo to flee, but Bilbo did not see him as he was too absorbed in the work of freeing the ponies. When at last the rope frayed and snapped under the pressure of the knife, Bilbo beamed and watched proudly as the ponies escaped into the woods. While the ponies appeared well on their way to safety, the same could not be said for Bilbo, for the ruckus of the ponies galloping off captured the attention of Bert, William, and Tom.

“OI! STOP IT, YOU!” Bert bellowed after the ponies. “We was going to eat your sorry arses! Get back here!”

Unsurprisingly, the ponies paid no heed to his tirade and disappeared from sight.

“We could’ve enjoyed pony meat if only you’d agreed to cooking ‘em,” William grumbled at Bert.

“We could’ve enjoyed pony meat if you’d actually stood guard like you was supposed to, William!” Bert shot back. “Those ponies didn’t free themselves. I’ll find out who did, and I’ll cook _‘em_ up.”

 _Shit,_ Thorin thought as panic burgeoned in him. Gandalf would be most displeased if he returned only to find that his chosen burglar had been barbecued by trolls. Thankfully, Bilbo managed to hide himself in time to avoid detection by the trolls, for Thorin could no longer see him anywhere in the clearing.

It was only a matter of time before the trolls found him, though, unless the Dwarves took action. 

Before Thorin could formulate a plan, he heard a _massive_ sneeze behind him. He whipped around to identify the culprit and spotted Dori sheepishly wiping his nose on his sleeve. Thorin leveled a glare at Dori, certain that the ungodly noise Dori’s nose had produced would alert the trolls to their position given that they were actively searching for intruders.

“I’m sorry!” Dori squeaked out shrilly. “My nerves got the better of me—sometimes I sneeze when I’m anxious, you see. I really can’t explain why-”

“Quiet!” Thorin hissed as he placed a finger to his mouth in a _shushing_ gesture.

Dori quickly clamped his hands over his mouth when he realized his mistake, but it was too late. If the trolls didn’t hear the sneeze, they _certainly_ would have heard Dori explaining the sneeze. _Hopefully Bilbo heard as well and knows that we are here,_ Thorin thought grimly as the trolls stomped toward the thicket the Dwarves were hiding behind.

Bilbo clearly _had_ heard the commotion, for he leapt out from behind a boulder.

“Wrong direction!” He shouted at the trolls. Bilbo darted around the clearing, dodging the swipes the trolls took at him and darting between their legs to evade capture.

Thorin did not quite know whether to be irritated or proud.

Bilbo put on an impressive display of evasive maneuvers for a while, but the three trolls eventually cornered him. Bert raised his ladle menacingly, and Bilbo cowered against a boulder as he awaited a potential blow.

“What are you?” William spat out.

“I…I’m a bur—a Hobbit!” Bilbo squeaked.

“A burrahobbit?” William asked curiously. “What’s a burrahobbit, and are there more of you ‘round here?”

Bilbo shook his head in a vehement denial of the presence of other burrahobbits in the area.

Bert released an excited, throaty chuckle. “He’s lying, true as daylight. Small creatures like ‘im move in groups y’see,” he explained to his fellow trolls. “Oh, I can’t wait to cook up him along with all the other burrahobbits.”

“Is their meat sweet?” William asked eagerly. “Burrahobbit for dessert sounds good to me.”

“Well I don’t bloody well know, I’ve never eaten one before!” Bert snapped.

“I don’t want ‘im if he’s bitter and the like,” Tom said as he nervously tapped his hands together.

“Fine, I’ll dice ‘im up into a nice meal and not give you any! Are you happy, Tom?” Bert snarked.

By this point, Bilbo had grown ghostly pale and was babbling incoherently. Thorin could only make out a few words and phrases, including “please”, “no!”, and “I’m not edible”. A blur of motion to his right captured his attention, and he saw Kili leap bravely into the clearing.

“No one is eating our Hobbit!” Kili shouted, twirling his sword menacingly at the trolls. “Leave him!”

Bert, thoroughly unimpressed, stared down Kili. “And who’s going to stop us, eh? You and your little sword?”

“He is not alone!” Fili boldly shouted as he joined his brother with his sword raised.

Bert scoffed, but his smirk vanished when the rest of the Dwarves charged into the clearing with their weapons drawn to join Fili and Kili. Kili delivered the first blow when he drove his blade into Bert’s foot, causing the troll to howl in pain and fall back momentarily. The other Dwarves joined the fray, hacking and slashing at the trolls with their various weapons as they sought to slay them. When Tom stooped low to swipe at the Dwarves crowding his feet, Dwalin leapt up with his twin axes and knocked out several of Tom’s teeth with a well-timed blow to his jaw.

The skirmish continued with neither side gaining the upper hand for some time. While the Dwarves landed many successful blows, the trolls’ hides were tough and dense, making it difficult to severely injure them. Furthermore, some of the Dwarves were beginning to tire from the combined effects of the current battle and their earlier fight against the wolves. Ori in particular was exhausted and could only weakly wield his slingshot, so Dori and Nori shifted most of their efforts from active assault against the trolls to defend their little brother.

They needed to end the battle quickly, and as Thorin stared at the roaring campfire, an idea sprung into his mind.

“Alaisia!” He called urgently to his wife.

“Yes, my love?” Alaisia responded as she slashed William’s ankle. The troll growled in anger but did not fall.

“I need you to give me a boost when I’m ready!”

She appeared puzzled, uncertain regarding what exactly Thorin had in mind, but nodded her assent. Thorin grabbed a sturdy stick and held it over the fire until the end of the stick was engulfed in flames. He hoisted it in his hand, testing its weight, then nodded at Alaisia. She held out her hands and gave Thorin an upward boost when he leapt. When Thorin was high enough, he tossed the flaming stick like a spear into William’s right eye.

William shrieked in pain at the burn inflicted upon him and flung his arms out in an attempt to strike Thorin, but Thorin dodged and grabbed Alaisia’s arm to pull her out of harm’s way. The pair continued to fight the trolls alongside their fellow Dwarves. However, in spite of the Dwarves’ relentless assault upon the trolls, the trolls refused to fall. Even William was stubbornly fighting with one eye scathed and swollen shut.

During all of this, Bilbo was effectively useless. The Hobbit had foolishly abandoned his only blade when he failed to take it out of the wolf he killed, so he was absorbed in the effort of staying out of the Dwarves’ way and avoiding the troll’s attacks.

When he saw how defenseless Bilbo was, Tom charged toward Bilbo with his knife raised. The Hobbit ran as fast as he could across the clearing, but he stumbled and fell against a large tree. He lingered where he fell, utterly helpless as he was bereft of weapons and frozen in fear of the incoming troll. Thorin could not get a clean shot at Tom even if he pulled his bow out due to the other trolls and Dwarves crowding him, but Alaisia shoved her way out of the fray and drew a long dagger that she kept concealed within her boot. With a loud _whooshing_ sound, her dagger soared through the air and lodged itself in Tom’s shoulder. He howled in pain and his knife fell to the ground as he frantically tried to reach his arms up to dislodge the offending dagger.

However, in her efforts to save Bilbo, Alaisia failed to pay attention to her own surroundings. Thorin desperately tried to call out to her, to warn her of the approaching troll, but it was too late. Alaisia yelped in pain as Bert roughly yanked her up off the ground and shook her, waving her in the air for all the Dwarves and Bilbo to see.

William gripped one of her legs tightly, causing Alaisia to grimace. “Drop your weapons, or we’ll kill the she-Dwarf!” He snarled at the other Dwarves.

Tom came over, finally successful in his efforts to remove the dagger, and spat on Alaisia.

Thorin saw red. “How _dare_ you?” He roared at the trolls as he took a menacing step forward, one fist clenched and the other gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles turned a ghostly white.

“Thorin!” Balin called out in alarm. “Drop your weapons—we’ll find another way out of this, lad,” Balin gently continued.

“They have my wife, Balin,” Thorin whispered hoarsely. His beloved wife was a capable warrior, but she let her guard down because she was too focused on saving a halfling that could not be bothered to save himself. They were only facing trolls in the first place because they were searching for their wretched excuse of a burglar!

And now Thorin had to drop his weapons, just as Balin said, or his wife would be slain, and he would have to explain to his children why he could not bring their mother home.

His weapons clattered to the ground unceremoniously along with the weapons of the rest of the Company. Bert roughly cast Alaisia to the ground, and Thorin desperately tried to run to her to make sure she was all right, but William seized him before he could reach her. William carried Thorin to the edge of the clearing and grabbed a sack that he stuffed Thorin into like a sausage. Thorin violently cursed at William in Khuzdul, but William tied rope all around the sack and finished the job with a cloth binding around Thorin’s mouth to prevent him from speaking. Thorin watched helplessly as his fellow Dwarves—including his wife and nephews—and Bilbo were all tied up, though thankfully none of them were gagged. The gag was apparently a special discomfort to punish Thorin, though whether it was due to the fiery projectile he lobbed at William or the string of Khuzdul expletives he unleashed he could not say for sure.

Once all fourteen Dwarves and the lone Hobbit were tied up in sacks, they were carelessly tossed into two piles. Bert rummaged in a crudely fashioned satchel and found a bag of powder that he dumped over all of the Dwarves.

“That’s proper seasoning, there,” Bert declared in satisfaction. “Now all we got to do is decide how to cook ‘em!”

If the mysterious powder _was_ seasoning, it was the foulest-smelling assortment of spices Thorin had ever been exposed to. It reminded him of the rank odor of his twins’ diapers when they were infants. Thorin might’ve retched if it were not for the gag the trolls had placed around his mouth. While Kili was in the same pile as Thorin, Alaisia and Fili were in the other pile. He tried to work his way out of the binding around his mouth so that he could call out them, but it was too tight.

All Thorin could manage was an angry _mmph_ through his gag that caused Bilbo to look back at him. Bilbo’s expression was an infuriating mixture of pity and guilt that Thorin had _zero_ patience for. Thorin glowered at Bilbo, trying his best to convey that he very much blamed Bilbo for their current predicament, and the Hobbit’s eyes fell in shame.

“I’m sorry, Thorin. I will fix this,” Bilbo promised fervently.

Once more, Thorin wasn’t particularly confident in Bilbo. He had begun to admire the little fellow somewhat after seeing the evidence of his successful battle against a wolf and his efforts to rescue the ponies, but the events that followed restored his former opinion.

Bilbo did not belong with them. 

Oblivious to the precise nature of the vitriolic thoughts swirling in Thorin’s brain, Bilbo wiggled until he rolled down the pile of Dwarves and hit the dirt with a _thud_. He rolled around until his back was against the Dwarf pile, and he used that position to work himself unsteadily to his feet. Bilbo had to hop around quite a lot to avoid falling over once more, but he _was_ standing with a modicum of success.

“You’re just going to cook them with _those_ seasonings?” He asked Bert. “Why, surely a discerning chef such as yourself would prefer a more appetizing preparation.”

Bert squinted curiously at him. “Why should I listen to you?” He asked. “Have _you_ cooked up Dwarf before?”

“We burrahobbits cherish the comforts of freshly-cooked food. Dwarf is…is…a delicacy among our people. Yes, a delicacy! We can’t catch them and cook them very often of course, but when we do, we have a large feast,” Bilbo babbled.

 _Surely they will know he is lying,_ Thorin thought as he rolled his eyes. He was wrong, though. Bert wanted to hear more from Bilbo.

“Go on, then,” Bert urged Bilbo. “How do I cook ‘em up right and proper?”

“Erm…Dwarf meat can be tough and leathery. It will be much more appetizing in…a pastry! Yes, a pastry, one with a nice buttery, flaky crust,” Bilbo declared to Bert.

It was clear that Bilbo was trying to buy time, though to what end Thorin did not know. Perhaps Bilbo was of the mind that Gandalf would return to them soon. Thorin did not want to count on Gandalf arriving in the nick of time to rescue them, but he supposed he had no other options at the moment.

“What’s buttery? Is that what that cow farmer tasted like?” William asked Bert.

“I dunno, but it sounds good,” Bert said, his interest piqued.

“This is a waste of time!” Tom whined. “I want to eat Dwarf _now_. This one looks quite appetizing,” he said as he grabbed Bombur and dangled him upside down. Tom opened his mouth as if he planned to simply take a chomp out of poor Bombur, who sweated and whimpered, but Bert swatted at Tom.

“Put ‘im down, let the burrahobbit talk!” Bert reprimanded.

Tom dropped Bombur and Bilbo exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Now, how do I make pastry? I haven’t heard of no such thing as pastry ‘fore now,” Bert addressed Bilbo.

Bilbo took a moment to speak, for he was still recovering from the shock of nearly seeing Bombur get eaten alive by a troll. “You need flour and butter to start with,” he began.

“We don’t have any of that flour,” Bert huffed in irritation. “If you can’t tell me how to cook these Dwarves, I’ll just cook ‘em on a spit over the fire as I first planned. William! Get the spit on the fire and grab a few Dwarves to tie onto it. Rip off the sacks, I don’t wanna eat any fabric with my roast Dwarf.”

Soon enough, the campfire was converted into a cooking station. Bert, William, and Tom argued amongst themselves about which Dwarves they should cook first and whether they should cook them live or dead. Tom somewhat derailed the conversation with an offhanded remark about how he had eaten lamb jelly before, but he had never tried _Dwarf_ jelly, so why don’t they squish some of the Dwarves first? Thankfully, William and Bert thought this a rather terrible idea, so the Dwarves were spared any untimely squishing by the trolls.

Just as the three trolls finally settled on the Dwarves that they wanted to sample first, Bilbo spoke up again.

“You’re making a _big_ mistake!” He warned in a shrill voice. “They are not fit for consumption, whether by burrahobbit or by troll. They’ve got worms in their…tubes. I should know, I’ve been traveling with them!”

Dwalin, flushed with anger, growled in protest. “Did you say I have parasites? I don’t have any parasites, you right fool of a Hobbit!”

Some of the other Dwarves also started to protest indignantly, and their voices joined together in a chorus of denials of being infected with parasites. However, Thorin understood that Bilbo was doing—he was trying to make the Dwarves seem unappetizing to the trolls. Unable to speak, Thorin simply shifted his legs to deliver a kick to the nearest Dwarf, who happened to be Kili.

Kili and the other Dwarves in the pile looked up at Thorin confused, and, bereft of the ability to speak to explain himself, Thorin simply raised his eyebrows at them and jerked his head toward Bilbo, hoping that his comrades would think things through and understand.

Understanding dawned on the Dwarves’ faces as they thought through the situation, and their denials of parasitic infection were hastily replaced with bragging about their imaginary parasites.

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!” Oin boasted.

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got _huge_ parasites!” Kili chimed in.

“Yes, in fact they _all_ have parasites, they’re positively _infested_ with them! It is a nasty business, and personally I would not risk consuming them,” Bilbo affirmed.

“That so?” Bert questioned Bilbo. “Well, I can’t say I mind parasites much. I’m infected with some myself. Makes for extra protein, I say.”

Bilbo looked back at Thorin, his eyes wide with panic. It was clear that Bilbo was struggling with coming up with another way to buy time. The Hobbit closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate, and Thorin hoped to Mahal that Bilbo could think of something.

A few moments later, Bilbo opened his eyes with a triumphant expression. “All right then, never mind the parasites. You may not care about infection, but I’m sure that such kind trolls as yourselves do not want to find yourselves cursed for all eternity?”

“Curse?” Tom squealed anxiously. “I don’t want nothing to do with any curses!”

“That’s right!” Bilbo affirmed. “At least one of these Dwarves is a sorcerer. If you so much as eat a bite of any of them, you shall be cursed for all eternity,” Bilbo declared in his best attempt at an ominous voice, which really did not sound very ominous at all.

“He _what?_ Sorcerer-Dwarves, you say?” William asked skeptically.

“Can’t you see? I didn’t get it at first but this burrahobbit is lying to us! He just doesn’t want us to eat those Dwarves. I say enough of his blabbing. Maybe I’ll eat _‘im_ first. I was plannin’ on saving ‘im for dessert, but I don’t want to hear ‘im speak anymore,” Bert threatened.

Thorin grimaced. It was a solid effort at delaying the inevitable, but Bilbo was perhaps a bit _too_ zealous in how he exaggerated his claims. Bert did not follow through on his threat to eat Bilbo first, but he did grab Dwalin. Dwalin shouted expletives at the trolls as they tied him to the spit. Thorin averted his eyes from the scene and looked up at the sky, noting that the last of the stars had faded and the first hints of sunrise were emerging. It seemed cruel that the sunrise was so peaceful and idyllic when his cousin, his best friend, was about to get roasted alive.

But Thorin remembered something as he stared at the sky above. _Trolls turn into stone in the daylight, of course!_ Thorin recalled. _All we have to do is buy a little more time and then the trolls will be immobile._

Thankfully for Dwalin, who had just started being turned on the spit, help arrived and there was no need to buy more time with Bilbo’s antics. Unbeknownst to the trolls, a figure swathed in grey robes appeared on a large boulder at the clearing’s eastern perimeter.

“Dawn take you all!” Gandalf the Grey shouted as he brought his staff down hard on the boulder. The trolls’ faces were scrunched in confusion as they looked at Gandalf and tried to work out where he had come from. Gandalf’s action split the boulder in twain with a thunderous _crack_ , allowing the first light of the morning to break through and wash over the trolls.

“No! Not the sun!” Bert begged. His once-strong voice was now seized with fear.

Those were the final words that came from him, and no words followed from either of his troll companions, for the three trolls rapidly hardened into stone under the harsh and unforgiving light of dawn.

“Gandalf! I’m grateful for your help with the trolls, but can you get me down from here? I don’t fancy being slowly roasted,” Dwalin said as he squirmed uncomfortably on the spit.

“Of course, Master Dwalin!” Gandalf assured him as he hastily rushed over to the fire to free the guardsman. After freeing Dwalin, Gandalf made his way around the clearing and freed the others of their bindings.

When at last all of the Dwarves were released from the sacks they had been stuffed in, Thorin sprinted over to Alaisia.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” Thorin anxiously asked as he frantically gathered Alaisia into his arms, snuggling her in close and safe. His heart thundered violently in his chest, for he feared that Alaisia may have been injured during the trolls’ rough handling of her, and the memory of the trolls threatening to murder her was still fresh in his mind.

Alaisia pulled back to look Thorin in the eyes, wincing slightly as she did so. “I am quite sore, and I shall likely bruise considerably, but otherwise I am in good health. Nothing seems to be broken,” she murmured gratefully. She placed a hand on Thorin’s chest and sighed worriedly when she felt how fast his heart was still racing. “I am sorry to have worried you, my love,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him.

Thorin’s lips crashed desperately against Alaisia’s in response. One of his hands splayed against her back and the other threaded through her soft hair as he tugged her closer, desperate to be as close as possible. Alaisia responded in kind, pressing herself against Thorin’s chest and clasping his back as her mouth melded against Thorin’s. They reluctantly broke apart and rested their foreheads together, the tips of their noses brushing delicately together and their fast breaths mingling.

 _We cannot get to Rivendell soon enough_ , Thorin thought anxiously, for he very much wished to make love to his wife, and the requisite privacy was not feasible on the road.

A loud throat-clearing next to Thorin and Alaisia startled them out of their loving moment, and they looked up to see Gandalf staring down at them, one bushy eyebrow raised, the shadow of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. It seemed he had been standing there a while, though Thorin and Alaisia were oblivious to his presence until now.

Needless to say, Thorin and Alaisia both turned beet red at the thought that Gandalf had seen their rather enthusiastic display of affection.

“Thank you, Gandalf, for saving us,” Alaisia gratefully acknowledged when she had recovered her dignity enough to speak.

“You are quite welcome, Alaisia,” Gandalf said warmly.

“We are quite grateful for your help Gandalf. However, I cannot say the same regarding your burglar; because of Bilbo’s incompetence, we ended up in a battle against three murderous trolls that wanted to cook us. They almost killed my wife, who was only in harm’s way because she was trying to save Bilbo’s sorry arse,” Thorin groused.

“Thorin, please do not blame Bilbo,” Alaisia urged him, stroking his arm lightly. “It was _my_ choice to save him from Tom, and my fault that I failed to pay more heed to my surroundings and got grabbed by Bert. Moreover, Bilbo saved our ponies when we were too careless to see to their defense. We owed it to Bilbo to try to rescue him.”

“I have to agree with the dwarrowdam here, Thorin,” Gandalf said as he patted Alaisia’s shoulder. “Balin told me about Bilbo killing a wolf and about how the little fellow ingeniously bought time until I managed to return. None of the rest of you thought of that.”

Thorin gritted his teeth. He supposed that both Alaisia and Gandalf had valid points. However, he was still so angry at Bilbo, and so utterly exhausted from the events of the night, that it was difficult to find it in him to forgive Bilbo. In all honesty, Thorin did not know what to make of the Hobbit. Could he be useful? Perhaps. But more likely than not, Bilbo would only get them into more trouble.

Thorin grunted noncommittally in response to Alaisia and Gandalf. “Perhaps tonight was not solely his fault, though I remain unconvinced of his utility to our quest,” he said.

Gandalf rolled his eyes. “The stubbornness of Dwarves!” He muttered in frustration. “There is simply no point in arguing with you, Master Thorin.”

“On that point we are in agreement,” Thorin cheekily replied, earning an exasperated chuckle from both Gandalf and Alaisia.

“At any rate, where there are trolls, there is generally a troll-hoard of treasure. Before we move on, I suggest we search for it,” Gandalf proposed.

“Aye, that would be helpful,” Thorin said. It would be nice if they could find some treasure to give to members of the Company, for they had already faced far more trouble in the early days of the journey than Thorin initially anticipated. Finding additional food supplies, as nauseating as the idea of eating food that belonged to trolls was, was also on Thorin’s mind. Even though Bilbo freed the ponies, they had disappeared into the woods with nary a backward glance, and there was no sign of the ponies’ return now.

The Company set to scouring the area around the clearing for any hint of buried treasure or a cave that might contain the trolls’ hoard. After some searching, Ori was the one to find the cave in the end.

“Look here!” Ori shouted, his voice giddy with excitement. The other Dwarves crashed through the woods, creating quite the commotion as they hastened to Ori’s location. Gandalf and Bilbo followed along at a more leisurely pace, less interested in treasure than the others and more interested in not being run over by eager Dwarves.

Inside the cave, there were piles and piles of gold, silver, and copper coins. A few gemstones gleamed among the treasure, along with assorted bits and bobs of jewelry and other shiny baubles. Some of the finds were of more questionable value to the Dwarves—for instance, they found several teeth, and more than a few farming implements—but on the whole, the cave was indisputably a good treasure haul. There was more treasure in the entirety of the cave than the Dwarves could feasibly carry. As a result, they divided some of the coins amongst themselves so that they had more funds for the road, and then they buried the rest.

Gloin’s eyes gleamed in delight as he carefully covered some coins in a hole in the ground. “We’re makin’ a long-term deposit,” the Company’s banker said to Dwalin, who was watching with his eyebrows raised in amusement. Dwalin rolled his eyes good-naturedly and went to the front of the cave to stand guard.

Thankfully for the Company, the trolls also had some food stored in the cave. It wasn’t much, only a few stray fruits and vegetables that were presumably stolen from a nearby farm, but it was better than nothing. They were all nearly ready to depart when Gandalf halted them.

“Wait! I may have found something,” he muttered as he made his way to the very back of the cave.

At first, Thorin simply saw more coins, but as he looked closer, he realized that something else was sticking out of the pile of coins. Gandalf reached down and brushed the coins away until three gleaming blades were revealed.

“These were crafted in the ancient Elf-city of Gondolin if I am not mistaken,” Gandalf breathed in wonder. He took the largest blade for himself and offered the other proper sword to Thorin.

Thorin held the sword delicately in his hands, admiring its craftsmanship and the careful balance imbued in it by the smith that forged it long ago. It looked as sharp as a dragon’s claw in spite of being ancient. The carvings on it were of stunning quality as well.

While Thorin had come around on Elves—other than Thranduil of course, Thorin still _hated_ that accursed wretch—he knew Alaisia appreciated Elf-culture more, for she had some Elvish blood in her ancestry. It seemed only polite to offer the blade to her if she wanted it.

“Alaisia, darling, would you like to be the keeper of this blade?” Thorin asked as he held out the sword for her.

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “It is sweet of you to offer, but the blade suits you well. You should keep it. Besides, while your current sword has some Elvish features, it is not a true Elf-blade. Seeing you wield an Elven sword is an opportunity that I do not wish to pass on,” Alaisia responded. Her eyes danced with mirth as she looked at her husband.

Thorin grinned at his wife’s gentle teasing and at her statement that he should keep the sword. “Thank you, my love,” he murmured as he kissed her, his beard softly tickling her cheek as he did so.

“Oi! Do you two need to get a room? It was bad enough earlier, d’you need to start up again now?” Nori exclaimed in exasperation.

Thorin shot Nori a sheepish, apologetic look as he walked out of the cave hand-in-hand with Alaisia. Gandalf emerged carrying the sword he claimed as well as the third Gondolin blade from the pile. The third blade was smaller, probably not even a proper sword by Elf standards, but it gleamed brilliantly in the morning sun.

Bilbo approached the wizard, gazing curiously at the small weapon he was holding. He took a deep breath. “Gandalf, I do not wish to fight, but I fear that I must on this quest. This blade looks like the proper size for one of my stature. May I take this blade so that I can properly defend myself, so that I can be less of a burden to my companions?”

Gandalf looked sadly down at his chosen burglar. He knelt and handed the sword solemnly to Bilbo.

“Exercise caution with this blade, my dear Hobbit, and do not take any unnecessary risks. You are not a burden. You have already proven your worth, and I am certain that you will continue to do so,” Gandalf comfortingly told Bilbo.

Thorin eyed the Hobbit warily and sighed. Only time would tell if Bilbo was capable of proving his worth to the quest. For now, they needed to make their way to Rivendell, for only Lord Elrond could decipher the secrets of the map Thorin’s father left behind. There had been enough delays already in the quest, and Thorin was growing impatient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This was my longest chapter yet. I honestly did not plan for it to happen that way...the chapter just kept growing, and I did not want to split it. I hope that you enjoyed my take on the troll encounter. In general, I'm trying to keep things fresh by using different dialogue than the books and movies as well as by adding new scenes, but there are certain lines from the books and movies that I simply cannot resist including (like Gandalf's classic "Dawn take you all!" or the bit about parasites). 
> 
> Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear from you in the comments section if you have any scenes you'd like to see in Rivendell (which will be coming up soon) or any general thoughts/feelings about the story. I will do my best to get Chapter 10 out next Thursday as planned, but I may have to delay posting it until the following week due to an upcoming exam.


	10. Respite in Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo learns more about the origins of the friendship between the Elves of Rivendell and the Dwarves of Dvergatal on the road to Rivendell. When the Company reaches Rivendell, Thorin and Alaisia take advantage of finally having some privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on this chapter! Grad school has been hectic recently so I haven't had as much time to write. I hope that the Thorin/Alaisia sex scene at the end of the chapter makes the delay worthwhile. As a side note, I've increased this story's rating to M.

**Alaisia’s POV**

After combing through the trolls’ treasure trove, the members of the Company decided to briefly back-track to their camp to retrieve the meager supplies they had abandoned there in their earlier haste to find Bilbo. While the ponies were successfully rescued by Bilbo, they never did return from their flight into the forest, leaving the Dwarves, Hobbit, and wizard without much in the way of food. The lack of food slowed their journey to Rivendell, for they had to stop and hunt at times to sustain themselves.

In the aftermath of the troll encounter, Thorin remained irritated with Bilbo and avoided him as much as possible. Dwalin also harbored rather hard feelings as he was nearly roasted over the fire by the trolls. Thankfully for Bilbo, much of the rest of the Company did not blame him for the troll encounter, or at the very least they did not hold a grudge against him. For her part, Alaisia held no ill will toward the Hobbit. If anything, Bilbo’s accomplishment of slaying the wolf and his clever efforts to buy time for Gandalf to arrive raised Alaisia’s esteem of him.

Alaisia tried to spend some time walking with Bilbo each day as she did not want him to feel excluded or isolated. Bilbo spoke of the merry atmosphere of The Shire and his adventures in the woods near Hobbiton as a lad, and Alaisia reminisced about the glory of the grand city of Dale ere its ruin. Fili and Kili joined in at times, telling Bilbo about Dvergatal and sharing stories they had heard from Thorin about Erebor. It was soothing for a while, albeit bittersweet, to recall tales of more pleasant times.

However, when the Company at last broke through the forest and into the open plains leading toward Rivendell, Alaisia felt a deep pit of foreboding settle in her gut.

Here, there were only a few scattered trees amid fields of golden grass and bushes. Occasional granite boulders and hills jutted unevenly above the landscape. It left the Company hopelessly exposed to danger. The thought of Rivendell was a beacon of safety and security that Alaisia clung to desperately, but it did little to dispel her unease. She had good reason to feel restless in this region.

Not far from here, long ago when the exiles of Erebor and Dale still dwelled in a temporary village in Dunland, Alaisia nearly perished after she was attacked by Orcs astride Wargs.

Alaisia shuddered at the memory of that day and glanced around warily. No matter how many visits she made to Rivendell, the long trek through the rolling hills and plains remained a source of much anxiety. It was exacerbated at the moment by the knowledge that Bolg and his Orc underlings were hunting Thorin and, by extension, the rest of the Company.

Bilbo noticed that something was amiss with his friend. “Alaisia, what troubles you?” Bilbo asked, his features creased with concern.

Alaisia hesitated. She did not wish to frighten the poor Hobbit, and a part of her felt that fear born of events that occurred so many years ago was rather ridiculous, but she ultimately decided that it was best to simply be honest with Bilbo.

“Many moons ago, our people resided in a humble village situated in the plains of Dunland. Following a successful trading venture to Bree, I was traveling back to our home with some of my fellow Dwarves, including my parents and Drayli-” Alaisia’s breath hitched suddenly.

“Are you all right?” Bilbo asked, peering up at Alaisia in confusion.

Alaisia exhaled slowly to calm herself. Drayli was her brother-in-law, her friend, and her companion in battle. He had served in her company during the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs, and together they had vanquished many foes. Later, when Fili and Kili were born, Drayli was a wonderful father to them during the short time he knew them. Memories of family dinners, of Drayli bouncing Fee and Kee on his shoulders and earning a chorus of adorable Dwarf-child belly laughs, of how happy her beloved sister-in-law Dis was with Drayli at her side flashed through Alaisia’s mind.

 _He was taken from our family far too soon_ , Alaisia thought sorrowfully. A heavy sigh left her downturned mouth.

“Forgive me, Bilbo. Drayli was Dis’ husband, my brother-in-law and the father of Fee and Kee. He survived the ordeal that I am currently speaking of—our return to Dunland from Bree. However, many years later, after we had settled in Dvergatal in the Blue Mountains, he…he was brutally murdered on another trading venture. Sudden bandit attack. Fili and Kili were still children when it happened. The grief still feels fresh at times.”

Bilbo made no response other than to give Alaisia a morose, sympathetic look and an awkward pat on the shoulder. It did not ease her pain, but it was still a thoughtful gesture. Alaisia breathed quietly, allowing her grief to subside before she continued.

“As…as I was saying before,” Alaisia began, slowly regaining her composure, “were traveling back to Dunland. Orcs mounted on Wargs ambushed us not far from where we are now. We Dwarves were hopelessly outnumbered. I fell unconscious for a time, for I was wounded with a poisoned arrow.”

A sharp gasp of alarm came from Bilbo. “How in the name of Yavanna did you all manage to escape?”

Alaisia smiled softly. “Lord Elrond found us. Rumors had reached Elrond’s ears of Orcs pillaging the lands beyond his borders, so he set out with a band of warriors to find and slay them. While hunting the Orcs, Elrond’s force found us. The Elves’ superior numbers and weaponry made rather quick work of the Orcs that harried us.”

“That experience must have been terrifying, though I’m glad that Elrond found you and the others. Is that how you first met, then?” Bilbo asked.

He hummed thoughtfully when he saw Alaisia’s nod, and a pensive look spread across his face. “Though it makes a bit more sense now given your tale, I must admit the mystery of the friendship between the Dwarves of Dvergatal and the Elves of Rivendell still puzzles me! I was under the impression that all Dwarves _hated_ Elves, and vice versa. I know you lot all despise Thranduil and the other Elves of the Greenwood.”

Bilbo’s confusion was certainly understandable. Most Dwarves _did_ hate Elves, though Alaisia always thought that default hatred was rather illogical.

“Not all of us hate _all_ Elves of the Greenwood. For my part, I only truly despise Thranduil. That craven turned his back on the suffering of my people during our hour of greatest need. _He_ chose to march his army toward us and then haughtily turn back. His people had little say in the matter,” Alaisia explained, bitterness snaking through her voice as she spoke of Thranduil’s betrayal of her folk.

“Furthermore,” Alaisia’s voice softened as she continued, “I would be a hypocrite if I claimed to hate the rest of the Elves of the Greenwood, for (quite ironically, I must admit) I am only alive because of Thranduil’s son Legolas. Legolas was visiting Rivendell as an emissary from his father at the time my companions and I were attacked, and he was among the group of Elves riding with Elrond. Legolas realized that I had been shot with a poisoned arrow and bore me back to Rivendell ahead of the others, while the battle was still raging, for he knew that I would not long survive if my wounds festered untreated. He, like most Elves, has a good heart.”

Bilbo nodded solemnly in response. “Did the Elves bring the rest of your group back to Rivendell to recover?”

“Aye, others were also injured, and the Elves could not in good conscience abandon us to the whims of the wild, so they brought us to Rivendell. We lingered there for several weeks. As you know from some of our other conversations, I have some Elven ancestry, so personally I have never been biased against Elves. During the time we all spent recovering in Rivendell, I befriended Legolas, Elrond, and several of the other Elves. Given the circumstances of our rescue, even some of my companions who _were_ inclined to dislike Elves grew fond of Rivendell and the Elves that dwelled there. That helped spread good will among the rest of our people when we returned home.”

“And then when you settled in Dvergatal later, you started trading with Rivendell, which further cemented the ties between your two realms?” Bilbo clarified.

“Yes,” Alaisia replied. “Some old-fashioned Dwarves still gripe about having to trade with Elves, but most are smart enough to recognize the value the trading arrangement has brought to our kingdom. The prosperity Dvergatal has achieved is in part due to Elrond and his folk.”

Bilbo nodded sagely. “Much more can be accomplished if prejudice is cast aside,” he murmured.

Something about Bilbo’s somber tone led Alaisia to wonder if perhaps he was thinking of his own mission to burgle the Arkenstone. In her mind, Bilbo had already proven himself a worthy addition to the quest. But to some of Alaisia’s fellow Dwarves, particularly her husband, Bilbo still seemed more of a liability than an asset.

It was a frustrating problem, but one that was hopefully not without a solution.

* * *

Fortunately for the weary Company, Alaisia’s fear of a possible attack while traversing the plains did not come to fruition. Exhausted from the effort of traveling so far without much rest, the Dwarves and Bilbo all but collapsed in relief when they entered Rivendell. Here, no bandits or trolls or vengeful Orcs could reach them.

They were safe, if only for a short while.

The roar of hundreds of crashing waterfalls and the delicate sounds of Elves playing music on harps mingled pleasantly in Alaisia’s ears. She took a deep breath of the crisp, pure air of the valley and turned to Thorin, giving him a look of sheer joy. His eyes danced with mirth as he laced his hands with Alaisia’s and kissed her forehead. While Thorin did not adore the Elven city to quite the same extent that Alaisia did, he had grown fond of the place over years of visiting, and he loved how happy it made his wife to be there.

Alaisia saw Thorin’s eyes widen in surprise, but before she could ask him what had caught him off guard, she found herself being hoisted in the air and spun by a familiar pair of Elven hands.

“Elladan! Put…put me down,” Alaisia breathed out between giggles.

Elladan and Elrohir, Lord Elrond’s twin sons, were close friends of Alaisia and Thorin. The mischievous nature shared by the Elf-twins seemed quite at odds with their immortal status, but it also resulted in them becoming fast friends with Kili and Fili. The four of them had engaged in _many_ shenanigans in Rivendell in the past, most of which involved pilfering food from the kitchen, the four of them attempting to cook something in said kitchen, or pranking poor Lindir.

It _never_ ended well when Kili, Fili, Elladan, and Elrohir tried to cook something. Someone always ended up getting singed (usually Kili), and the end product nearly always resembled a charred brick of dubious content.

Elladan and Elrohir laughed merrily, and Elladan finally released Alaisia. He deposited her gently on the ground.

“We are glad to see you, _mellon nin_ ,” Elladan said to Thorin and Alaisia. “Arwen is still away in Lothlorien, else she would also be here to greet the two of you.”

“You arrived later than expected, so we were beginning to worry! We nearly sent out a search party for you,” Elrohir added.

“There was some trouble along the way,” Thorin muttered darkly. “We encountered bandits and trolls. During our encounter with the trolls, our ponies all vanished, so we had to make the remainder of the trek on foot.”

Elladan’s brow creased in concern at the news, and Alaisia was struck by how much he looked like his father while brooding. “I am afraid we have more ill tidings to share with you, though those matters can wait until dinner tonight. I’m sure you all are very eager for a chance to rest for a while and cleanse yourselves after your long journey,” he said somberly.

Alaisia had a strong suspicion that the “ill tidings” Elladan referred to might be related to Bolg or other Orcs, and a stolen glance at Thorin confirmed he was thinking much the same. Neither of them breathed a word of it at the moment, however, for both Dwarves were weary and wished to forget that they were being hunted, if only for a short while.

After a few moments of silence, Thorin spoke first. “I am glad to see both of you,” he said as he looked up at Elrond’s twins. “For now, though, I think I will retire to the chambers that Alaisia and I use when we visit.”

It did not escape Alaisia’s notice that Thorin deliberately avoided mentioning the news that Elladan alluded to.

“Sweetheart, do you want to come along as well?” Thorin asked.

“I’ll follow in a while, love,” Alaisia responded, brushing an unruly strand of hair behind Thorin’s ear.

Thorin nodded and kissed Alaisia on the cheek before he set off toward their shared quarters. As Alaisia looked around the plaza, she saw that Lindir was attempting to usher the Dwarves along to the guest chambers set aside for them. Herding a band of noisy, smelly, and hungry Dwarves proved…well, about as difficult as could be expected, frankly. Lindir struggled for a bit and then called over some other Elf attendants to assist him. Alaisia stifled a laugh when she saw the suspicious side-eye Lindir gave Fee and Kee.

 _Knowing my dear nephews, they already have some mischief planned_ , Alaisia thought amusedly.

Bilbo followed along obediently, though he nearly stumbled a few times as he was utterly enraptured by the natural beauty of Rivendell.

Seeing that Alaisia’s spirits had lifted once more, and wishing to keep things somewhat lighthearted until dinner, Elrohir made show of pinching his nose. “I _do_ hope that your Dwarf companions take the opportunity to bathe prior to dinner, otherwise I fear that my nose shall climb off my face and flee!” He jested, earning a light elbow to his side from Alaisia.

“Now that is hardly polite,” Elrond reprimanded teasingly as he approached with Gandalf, one eyebrow raised at Elrohir. Elrond turned to Alaisia and clasped her shoulder gently. “Welcome back, Alaisia Glavrem.”

“Thank you, I am glad to be back,” Alaisia murmured.

Elrond smiled warmly at her. “As I am sure my sons have already told you, there are matters that we must discuss come dinner. For now, though, be at peace, and find rest in our valley. From what Gandalf told me, you have certainly earned it.”

Alaisia flashed a grateful smile at Gandalf and Elrond and excused herself to join Thorin. By now, Alaisia knew the most direct route through the gardens to reach the quarters she shared with Thorin. She smiled contentedly at the sight of the Dale roses the Elves had lovingly cultivated by the door. Most native Dale roses had probably long since perished due to Smaug’s assault on Dale, but thankfully Elrond’s folk were avid gardeners, and they had long kept stocks of flowers native to different regions of Middle-earth.

Alaisia softly shut the door to her and Thorin’s chambers. She hummed happily as she took in the familiar surroundings, for familiarity was a much-needed comfort after her journey from The Shire. Her pulse quickened when her eyes landed on the plush, luxurious bed facing the balcony—it was the source of _many_ pleasant memories with her husband.

A soft _splashing_ sound disrupted Alaisia’s reverie, and her eyes snapped to the gauzy curtains that separated the heated bath chamber from the bedroom. _Thorin must be bathing for dinner,_ Alaisia thought, a wicked grin spreading across her face. She stealthily slipped off her weapons and clothes, depositing them onto a nearby chair, before tiptoeing across the room and pulling back the curtain.

Steam from the hot bath lightly kissed her skin, mirroring the heated desire that pooled in her core at the sight of her husband. Thorin was nude and lounging lazily in the oversized bathtub, his toned chest rising above the water and his arms resting on the rim of the tub. His eyes were closed peacefully. He looked so serene, so _perfect_ , in the water.

 _I am so lucky that he is mine,_ Alaisia thought blissfully as her eyes raked over her husband’s handsome form. Even after decades of marriage, Alaisia’s passion for her husband had not tempered, nor had his passion for her waned.

A deep, baritone chuckle sounded from deep within Thorin’s chest, signaling that he had heard Alaisia enter. “Do you simply intend to ogle me, or do you plan to join me?” Thorin teased mirthfully. His eyes darkened with desire when he turned to look at Alaisia and saw the naked curves of her body. 

“You want me to join you?” Alaisia seductively asked, languidly taking a step forward.

“Please,” Thorin huskily murmured.

Alaisia took her time closing the distance between her and her husband, enjoying the feeling of his lust-filled eyes following her every step. When she finally reached the edge of the tub, Alaisia trailed a finger along one of Thorin’s broad, muscular arms. She leaned in to kiss the tender flesh where his neck met his shoulder, causing Thorin to moan softly.

“What can I do for you, my King?” Alaisia murmured.

Thorin did not answer verbally. Instead, he stood in the tub, water dripping softly from his body as he did so. He faced Alaisia and placed his hands on the curves of her hips, kneading the soft flesh there. He planted a searing kiss on Alaisia’s mouth and pulled her flush against his body before lifting her easily and depositing her in the tub with him.

They crashed into the water together, their hands flying over each other, their mouths moving together in an urgent frenzy as they savored the intimacy they had been deprived of on the road. Thorin slipped a hand down to Alaisia’s entrance, rubbing it lightly with his fingers and eliciting a moan of pleasure from his Queen. Alaisia clutched desperately at Thorin’s broad, muscular back as Thorin began kissing her neck and chest.

It was perfect; it was too much. She needed her husband _now_.

“Thorin, please-” Alaisia whimpered when Thorin slowly, teasingly almost, pushed a finger into her entrance.

He _smirked_ in response, appearing devilishly handsome as he did so, and slid another finger in as he leaned forward to whisper in Alaisia’s ear. “Is this what you want?” He nipped lightly at her earlobe.

Alaisia could not think clearly enough at the moment to form coherent _words_ , much less sentences, so she removed a hand from Thorin’s back and grasped his cock, stroking the shaft insistently. Thorin hissed in pleasure, leaning further into his wife and carelessly causing the water to splash around the pair of them.

Thorin removed his fingers, but Alaisia only missed their presence for a moment until Thorin positioned his member over her entrance and thrust inward. Alaisia sighed in contentment at the familiar stretching, the familiar _pleasure_ of feeling her husband fill her core. In these moments, when they were one, it felt as if they were made for each other, as if they fit perfectly together. Alaisia threaded her hands through Thorin’s silky, water-laden hair, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss as Thorin began to thrust more rapidly.

When she came, Alaisia saw stars and cried out Thorin’s name as her pleasure crashed around her in turbulent waves. Her core clenched around Thorin’s cock and he came soon after, calling Alaisia’s name and flooding her with his seed. He collapsed onto Alaisia, remaining inside her and grasping her close.

The King and Queen lingered there for a moment, their heavy breaths mingling, as they recovered from their respective climaxes.

“I love you,” Thorin whispered as he kissed the tip of Alaisia’s nose.

Alaisia gave a joyous laugh. “I love you too, my heart.”

A sudden _ringing_ caused both Dwarves to startle. “That’s the bell that warns us there is only one hour left until dinner, if memory serves,” Alaisia groused. “Is it terrible that I just want to stay here?”

Thorin laughed heartily. “It is not terrible, my love. I do not wish to move either. I suppose we must, though, or else our host shall be most displeased.”

He slipped out of his wife reluctantly. Alaisia missed the contact and leaned forward in the tub to kiss her husband, lacing her arms delicately around his neck and enjoying the sensation of his hands lightly splayed across her sides. They broke apart after a few tender kisses to wash themselves off.

Alaisia greatly enjoyed the feeling of being _clean_ again, for she had not taken a proper bath since the night they stayed at Bilbo’s home in The Shire. Thorin had already washed his hair prior to Alaisia’s appearance, but he helped her wash her hair, his hands gently carding through her blond tresses and working out the tangles.

Thorin left the tub first and held out a hand for Alaisia to help her, not wanting her to slip on the rather damp tile floor. Alaisia was grateful for her husband’s assistance as it looked almost like the floor had taken a bath along with them. She blushed, hoping fervently that the Elves that cleaned her and Thorin’s chambers would not guess at the cause of so much water spilling forth from the tub.

Thorin had already wrapped a towel around his lower half and was making his way back into their bedchamber to clothe himself. Alaisia stared after him longingly, wanting very much to simply tear the towel off of her husband, throw him on the plush bed, and make love to him once more. They _could_ technically skip dinner, but it would be quite rude, and Alaisia’s stomach gave a plaintive grumble as soon as the mischievous thought surfaced.

Alaisia followed her husband into their bedroom to dress herself, feeling very grateful for the fact that she and Thorin visited Rivendell frequently enough that they kept their chambers stocked with a small assortment of clothes. She selected a silvery blue gown made of satin that was adorned with beads and lace, savoring the feeling of slipping on a clean outfit after weeks of wearing the same clothes.

Thorin inhaled sharply when he saw how closely the gown conformed to Alaisia’s figure. He spun Alaisia, pulling her in close so that her back was pressed against his chest, and peppered her neck with kisses. Alaisia leaned into him, losing herself in her King’s kisses for a few precious moments.

Time was running short, though, and neither of them had done anything to restore order to their hair after their shared bath. They took turns braiding each other’s hair, weaving in the beads they had gifted one another over the years. Alaisia smiled at her finished work. Thorin’s hair was still somewhat damp, but he looked every inch the King he was in his silver-colored tunic that mirrored the veins of silver in his dark hair.

Ever the gentleman, Thorin held out his arm for Alaisia. “Are you ready to go to dinner, my love?”

Alaisia smiled softly as she clasped Thorin’s arm tenderly. “Yes, my King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> Elvish translation: mellon nin = my friends
> 
> Also, Alaisia's conversation with Bilbo referenced several chapters from A Journey of Light and Shadow. Alaisia's Elven ancestry is discussed in Chapter 4, her first encounter with Elrond and his people occurs in Chapters 23 and 25-27, and Chapters 49 and 51 include the development of the trade relationship between the Dwarves and Elves.
> 
> Next up will be another chapter set in Rivendell, then the Company will set out into the Misty Mountains. I know Radagast did not make an appearance here, which is a divergence from the films, but I have plans for Radagast to appear soon :)


	11. Rivendell II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected visitor arrives late to Lord Elrond's welcome feast bearing ill tidings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! If you are still reading this story, thank you so much, and I am really sorry about the long hiatus! I did not plan to take a break in writing, but my workload in grad school increased and I just didn't have time to write for a while. I'm back now, though, and I fully intend to finish this story. Updates will be about every two weeks, or more often if my schedule allows. 
> 
> Today's chapter is still set in Rivendell, and it is entirely from Alaisia's point of view. We'll return to Thorin's point of view in the next chapter.

**Alaisia’s POV**

Thorin and Alaisia strolled leisurely arm-in-arm to Lord Elrond’s grand dining pavilion. The evening sun cast a warm and welcoming light over the delicately carved wooden tables nestled within the pavilion. Evidence of the Elves’ affinity for gardening abounded everywhere, from the winding branches of ancient trees to the sweetly flowering vines that encircled the stone columns.

Alaisia breathed in deeply, savoring the delectable smell of the food that wafted over to her. Lord Elrond had a proper feast set out for the Company: an array of fresh vegetables, juicy fruits, seedcakes laden with honey, and an abundance of fine cheese. There was also some meat, though rather less than the Dwarves were used to.

Elrond motioned for Alaisia and Thorin to join him at the head table, a grand round table crafted of solid beech wood. It seemed that Thorin and Alaisia were last to arrive do dinner, for Elladan, Elrohir, Gandalf, Bilbo, Fili, Kili, Balin, and Dwalin were already gathered at the table. The other Dwarves were seated around a long table below the head table.

Ever observant, Dwalin noticed the still-damp state of both Thorin’s and Alaisia’s hair. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, but thankfully neglected to comment on it.

Sheepish from their (admittedly mild) tardiness, Thorin and Alaisia took the two empty seats adjacent to Elrond, opposite from Elladan and Elrohir on Elrond’s other side.

“Welcome, my dear friends, back to Imladris,” Elrond intoned. He raised a glass filled with a rich, fruity wine. “I call for a toast to the Company and to its leaders, Thorin and Alaisia, the King and Queen Under the Mountain. May your quest to reclaim your homeland prove successful.”

All gathered raised their glasses and sipped their wine, though Alaisia saw out of the corner of her eye that Dwalin took a hearty gulp. She stifled a laugh and turned her attention back to Elrond.

“Gandalf has told me some of the tale of your journey here already, but I deem that he left much out,” Elrond explained as he regarded Gandalf with a skeptical expression.

Gandalf laughed merrily. “You are quite right, my old friend. I thought it best that Thorin and Alaisia tell you much of it.”

The Company and the Elves began feasting, and Elrond listened intently as Thorin and Alaisia shared the task of explaining what had befallen them on their quest thus far. Lord Elrond’s expression grew grave when he heard of the bounty set upon Thorin’s head by Bolg as well at Thorin’s mention of their encounter with the trolls.

Having finished her food, Alaisia turned her attention to the lower table as Thorin began to tell Elrond of the treasure hoard they came across after the trolls turned to stone. None of the Dwarves seated there had traveled to Rivendell before and, at least on first glance, they all seemed _remarkably_ well-behaved.

But then Alaisia looked more closely.

Over the soft, lilting melody of the harps and flutes, she heard Ori gripe about how little meat there was and how he did not want to eat any green food. That was rude, but Dori was doing his best to get Ori to stop complaining and partake in some lettuce. The other Dwarves were exhibiting worse behavior. Oin had stuffed his hearing trumpet with a menagerie of cloth napkins; one of the Elf-maids playing a flute noticed and deliberately moved closer to Oin, causing him to attempt to stuff yet _another_ napkin in his hearing device. Bofur began playing a conflicting melody on his own flute in an attempt to drown out the Elven music.

By far the worst behaved Dwarf was Nori. Alaisia looked at him just in time to catch the thief stuff a whole gilded candlestick in his shirt, sporting a massive self-satisfied smirk on his face as he did so.

Alaisia’s eyes flew wide open in alarm. _Bloody fool of a Dwarf! It will not do for Lord Elrond to see our folk as common thieves_ , she thought frantically. Luckily, Elrond had not noticed yet, for he was still listening to Thorin speak of the treasure hoard. Balin _had_ noticed and shared an exasperated glance with Alaisia, rolling his eyes at the antics of his comrades down below. Wordlessly, Balin quietly made his way over to the other table. After a few hushed words and some dramatic gestures from Nori, the candlestick Nori pilfered was returned to the table.

Balin pointed at Nori in a manner that clearly said _I’m watching you_ before shaking his head and returning to the main table. Alaisia silently mouthed _thank you_ at him and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, Thorin had finished filling in Elrond on what happened, and the two were examining the sword that Thorin claimed from the trolls’ assortment of valuables.

“Gandalf showed me his sword earlier—it is known as Glamdring, formerly the storied blade of the King of Gondolin himself. Yours is also a famous blade of Gondolin: Orcrist, the goblin-cleaver. It was forged by my kin, the High Elves of the West. May it serve you well, Thorin Oakenshield.”

Bilbo reached for his humble blade, but Balin shook his head kindly. “I wouldn’t bother laddie. From the look of it, your blade is probably more of a letter-opener, really.”

Bilbo looked crestfallen at that. “You do not think that my blade has seen battle?” He mumbled, clearly disappointed at the turn of events.

Elrond looked upon the Hobbit with pity. “Master Bilbo, may I see your sword?” He asked.

Bilbo passed the sheathed Elven blade down the table to Elrond, who drew it and hummed thoughtfully. “Balin is at least partially correct—this is far too small to have been used as a sword by an Elf. However, it might have been used as a dagger, and the craftsmanship is very fine. I deem that this blade is well-suited to one of your stature, Bilbo. Perhaps you shall bestow a name upon it one day.”

That lifted Bilbo’s spirits somewhat, and Gandalf patted his shoulder affectionately. Gandalf looked troubled, though, and a subtle undercurrent of worry swam in his eyes. _Perhaps he feels somewhat guilty for convincing Bilbo to partake in this quest_ , Alaisia mused. While Alaisia was more confident in Bilbo now than she was at the start of the quest, she still worried about his fate should the Company encounter Bolg or his Orc hunters.

Lord Elrond’s next words provided more cause for concern.

“I mentioned earlier, Alaisia, that I had grave tidings to share with you all. Would that it were not so, for I know how exhausted you, Thorin, and the others are, but I cannot change what my scouts have reported. Over the preceding weeks, we have detected a large increase in the numbers of Orcs and Wargs beyond our borders, particularly closer to the foothills of the Misty Mountains,” Elrond grimly informed them.

A somber silence seized the table, and Elrohir stretched out his arms placatingly. “You are quite safe here, I can assure you that much—these Orcs pose no threat to the Hidden Valley. Be that as it may, I know that you all intend to traverse the Misty Mountains on your journey, and I urge you to exercise the utmost caution as you proceed in your quest. We can offer you food, lodging, and our advice; however, we cannot follow you into the Mountains. Our strength is needed here to keep Imladris secure.”

 _So that is why we have not yet encountered any of Bolg’s henchmen. They are lying in wait for us to ensnare ourselves in their trap,_ Alaisia realized in alarm.

Alaisia looked at her nephews, who were glancing between her and Thorin with questioning eyes as if they were silently asking what the plan was for overcoming this threat. By Mahal, Alaisia wished that she or Thorin or Gandalf or _someone_ actually _had_ a plan. None of them had a plan for how to progress, though, and their numbers were too small to face a force such as the one Lord Elrond described. Alaisia had no words of comfort or reassurance to offer to her dear nephews.

She felt a stab of guilt pierce her gut.

_What kind of aunt am I for allowing them to come on such a dangerous quest? How can I possibly protect them from what is to come?_

Logically, Alaisia knew that both Fili and Kili were of age and that they did not technically _need_ protecting, but she loved them fiercely and wished to avoid any harm coming to them. She had also promised Dis that she would look after her boys. Now, between the knowledge of the bounty set upon Thorin’s head and word from the Elves of an expanding Orc presence, that was a much more difficult task.

Alaisia grasped Thorin’s hand under the table, but he did not notice. His mouth was set into a hard, thin line, and a maelstrom of emotion raged in his silver-blue eyes. “Do you know who leads them? Is it Bolg?” He spoke the name ‘Bolg’ with such vitriol that he nearly spat it out.

Elrond released a heavy sigh. “That we cannot say for certain, though my heart tells me that he is likely behind this. It is too great of a coincidence otherwise—Orcs are returning to lands they have long been absent from, and you know from your encounter with that bandit that Bolg is hunting you.”

“If it is indeed Bolg as we suspect,” Thorin slowly drew out, “then he shall meet his fate at the end of my sword, be it Orcrist or Deathless. I will not allow him to interfere with our quest. We must plan carefully, but we can forge ahead and outsmart the Orcs. There is no other choice.”

Thorin looked at Alaisia then, and his eyes softened upon seeing her worried expression.

“We’ll think of something, love. I promise,” Thorin murmured as he brushed a thumb over Alaisia’s cheek.

It was a comforting gesture, but Alaisia’s mind was still swirling around the question of how they would evade the Orcs. More than anything, she wanted Bolg dead so that he would no longer pose a threat to her husband; however, hunting down Bolg and his henchmen was not a feasible option if the Orcs’ numbers were far greater as Elrond implied. The Dwarves numbered only fourteen, and not all were superb warriors. Bilbo was of little to no help until he learned how to use his Elven dagger.

Lord Elrond started to say something, but his words were abruptly cut off by the _thumping_ , _screeching_ sound of a sled pulled by rabbits unceremoniously crashing into the pavilion. Alaisia did a double-take at the curious scene, uncertain at first whether the wine of the Elves had gotten to her head. A rather disheveled fellow swathed in brown robes shakily hopped down from the sled and hobbled unsteadily over to address Gandalf. He looked like he might also be a wizard based on the staff resting on his sled, and he certainly seemed eccentric enough to fit the title.

“Gandalf!” The strange man exclaimed breathlessly. “He’s there! I saw him! Oh, this is no good, no good at all…”

All gathered in the pavilion fell into a hushed silence. Gandalf regarded the newcomer patiently, though Alaisia saw a hint of worry in the wizard’s eyes.

“Radagast, my old friend, calm yourself. Whatever danger you faced, you are quite safe from it here in Imladris,” Gandalf placatingly said. He reached for a spare wine glass on the table and poured a generous helping of red wine into it before handing it to Radagast. “Drink some of this to settle your nerves. I need you to tell me _who_ is _where_ ; at the moment, your nerves are far too frazzled for you to convey any important information.”

Radagast sniffed at the wine skeptically and took a hesitant sip, followed by a light swig. He stared at the glass and breathed deeply to steady himself.

Gandalf smiled kindly. “That’s better. Now, who did you see that caused you such a fright?”

“I suppose I’d best start at the beginning,” Radagast muttered as his hands fidgeted with the wine glass. “You know of the sinister darkness that has swept through the once-grand Greenwood. Local folk have taken to calling it _Mirkwood_ now, and of late I have seen countless living things mysteriously sicken and perish. I sensed that some form of dark magic might be to blame and, knowing of the rumors surrounding the old fortress of Dol Guldur, I made the decision to investigate the matter myself.

“It was a mistake, Gandalf. That place is filled with great evil. There are many Orcs, yes, but other beings lurk in the shadows of the fortress as well. Spirits long thought dead roam the ruins wielding ghostly blades, ready to strike down any who enter. One almost stabbed me; indeed, I only barely managed to escape with my life after striking it with my staff. The phantom disappeared into the wind with a hideous _screech_ , and its sword crashed to the ground. I grabbed it in a bit of old cloth, not wanting to touch the metal in case it bore a curse. Ere I fled, I saw what looked like a man wreathed in shadows and smoke. I sensed pure malice in him, and I know that he must be the one called the Necromancer. I mounted my sled and immediately set course for Imladris to inform the White Council of what I saw,” Radagast said. He shuddered as if a horrible chill had come over him and gripped the wine glass so hard that Alaisia feared it might shatter.

Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. He eased the wine glass out of Radagast’s hands. “Are you quite certain? If what you are telling me is correct, we may have a much more significant problem than I initially anticipated.”

Wordlessly, Radagast rummaged through his robes until he withdrew a carefully wrapped object. He deposited it gingerly on the table and eased open the cloth that enclosed the object for all to see. It was an ancient metal blade that ended in a cruel point. Alaisia knew nothing of its origins, but she instinctively sensed it was an instrument of evil.

“This blade is not from the world of the living, Gandalf. I hope that I am wrong, but I do not think that I am,” Radagast declared.

Elrond, ashen-faced, hurriedly cast the cloth back over the blade. “Galadriel and Saruman will be here in a few short days for our next meeting of the White Council, but we cannot place this discussion on hold until then. We will go to my private study,” he told Gandalf and Radagast decisively as he grabbed the cloth-covered blade. “Elladan, Elrohir, you should also accompany me.”

“Should we come as well?” Thorin asked, appearing alarmed and perplexed in equal measure.

Lord Elrond had already turned to leave, but he looked back at Thorin upon hearing his question. “No, not at the moment. This is a matter that I need to discuss first with Gandalf, Radagast, and my sons. I give you my word that we will not leave you in the dark, though.”

Thorin nodded in recognition of Elrond’s words, though Alaisia could tell that he was dissatisfied with Elrond’s response. She shared her husband’s frustration—considering that the Company planned to travel through the Greenwood, or Mirkwood, Radagast’s tidings could have a very direct impact on their quest.

A Necromancer with phantom warriors presented yet _another_ danger the Company was ill-equipped to face.

Judging by the hushed whispers of concern that Alaisia heard amongst her companions, she was not the only member of the Company concerned by this development. The only good news, she supposed, was that the Necromancer was not actively hunting them. Bolg was still the greater, more immediate threat.

“You’re brooding again,” Thorin murmured, his eyebrows raised at Alaisia.

“So are you!” Alaisia pointed out, matching Thorin’s stare.

In spite of the circumstances, Thorin chuckled. “Aye, that is a fair point. We have both spent far too much time brooding of late. I know you are worried, love, and I am too. But we are weary from our travels, and Mahal knows we did not exactly _rest_ earlier,” Thorin whispered suggestively as he leaned in to kiss Alaisia’s neck.

Alaisia sighed and felt _some_ of the built-up tension leave her, but her mind stubbornly insisted on dwelling on the trials to come. Thorin did have a point, though—they were both too exhausted to think of _any_ plan for the journey to come, much less a decent plan not likely to get them all killed.

“What do you propose we do for now?” Alaisia asked Thorin.

“You’ve always loved listening to the songs and poems of the Elves in the Hall of Fire. It could provide a welcome distraction for both of us,” Thorin suggested.

An evening in the Hall of Fire did sound rather appealing to Alaisia, so she nodded her assent. Balin, Bilbo, Oin, Fili, and Kili ended up accompanying Thorin and Alaisia, though Alaisia strongly suspected that Kili only joined them to gaze upon more Elf-maids. The lad had developed a strong attraction toward Elven women of late, though his interest had yet to be reciprocated by any.

The Hall of Fire was a grand hall with soaring arches and intricate carvings. In spite of the enormity of the space, it was always warm and inviting due to roaring fires in grand hearths that were carefully maintained by the Elves. Murals of ancient battles and kingdoms of the past graced the walls.

Alaisia hummed contentedly as she nestled into a pile of elegantly crafted cushions alongside Thorin, eager to hear what the Elves chose to sing of that evening. She hoped for something uplifting, perhaps a tale of past triumph. Such a song would soothe her frayed nerves and provide the distraction she so desperately needed.

Instead, the Elves sang of the Fall of Gondolin, both in Elvish and in the Common Tongue for the benefit of their guests. They sang first of what a magnificent city Gondolin was in its prime: a jewel concealed by the warm embrace of towering mountains, guarded by seven splendid gates, home to many renowned artists and craftsmen. The accompanying music grew mournful as the song turned to the betrayal committed by the king’s own nephew Maeglin, who informed Morgoth of the hidden city’s location. Sharply discordant notes dominated when the Elves sang of the army of Orcs, balrogs, and dragons that wreaked havoc on the city. The song of the Fall of Gondolin ended with the survivors fleeing to the Havens of Sirion on the coast.

Alaisia wept silently as she listened, for the tale reminded her of her home of Dale. Dale was a remarkable city ere Smaug’s attack, filled with orchards, art, bustling marketplaces, libraries, _life_. Now it was likely no more than a mere ruin, its stones charred from Smaug and crumbling from lack of maintenance, its streets deserted except for the corpses of those who fell victim to the dragon’s flames.

 _I shall see my old city soon,_ Alaisia thought sorrowfully. The Company would inevitably pass Dale on their way to Erebor. She would have no choice but to see the tragic shell of the place she once called home, the place that _still_ felt like home in her heart.

Alaisia shut her eyes tightly, willing her tears to dry in place, trying to squeeze out any thought of what was to come. She was ordinarily brave, sometimes to the point of recklessness, but now she just felt vulnerable, uncertain, and heartbroken.

Eventually, as the Elves transitioned into another song, Alaisia slipped from consciousness into a nightmare-laden slumber.

* * *

Alaisia attempted—rather poorly—to stifle a yawn as she watched a series of sparring matches the next morning. After she fell asleep, Thorin carried her back to their chambers, but Alaisia’s rest continued to be plagued by nightmares. Some were of the past, either of the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs or of her frantic flight from Dale with her parents as the city burned around them. Others were of events that had not yet come to pass: Orcs chasing the Company as they ventured into the Misty Mountains; spirits of the Necromancer ensnaring the Company in Mirkwood.

The frightening imagery caused Alaisia to wake with a start multiple times during the night, leaving her utterly exhausted now. She normally would have loved nothing more than to engage in sparring matches, but she did not have the energy this morning.

At the moment, Thorin and Dwalin were sparring, with Thorin rapidly gaining the upper hand much to Dwalin’s chagrin. Fee and Kee were sparring with Elladan and Elrohir, and while the Elf-twins were undoubtedly outcompeting the Dwarf brothers, Alaisia’s nephews were putting up a good fight.

 _It is good for us all to practice. We need to be at the peak_ _of our skills to survive what is to come_ , Alaisia thought.

Balin was also watching the sparring, but he looked over at Alaisia and frowned when he saw how worn-out she looked. He took a seat next to her. “What worries you, lass?” He gently probed.

Alaisia grimaced. “I did not rest well last night. My mind is fixated on the problem of Bolg and the Orcs that await us between here and the Misty Mountains,” she muttered.

Balin placed a comforting arm around Alaisia. “I must admit that I am concerned as well, Alaisia, but you and I have faced terrible odds before and emerged triumphant. We survived Azanulbizar, after all. We will persevere through this as well,” he sagely assured her.

But Alaisia shook her head softly, for other nightmares had tormented her the previous night as well. “Forgive me, Balin, I did not explain properly. While I am concerned about the prospect of the Orcs outnumbering us, I am also quite worried about Thorin. I know how he hungers for revenge against the Orc that slew his brother—you saw him at dinner last night. What if he does something reckless?”

Alaisia did not think that Thorin would necessarily deliberately seek out Bolg; rather, she feared that if their efforts to evade Bolg proved unsuccessful, Thorin might take unnecessary risks to claim his vengeance against the Orc.

The pensive expression on Balin’s face told Alaisia that he shared her concern. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I do not know what to say to that, lass, other than that we must be there to knock some sense into him if need be,” he murmured. “I have to hope that even with his desire for revenge, Thorin would put his own safety first for your family’s sake.”

“I hope that you are right, Balin,” Alaisia murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Thorin's point of view and more Rivendell. Galadriel and Saruman will arrive for the White Council meeting, and I'm planning a scene where Thorin speaks to Saruman. The chapter after that, we'll follow the Company into the Misty Mountains, where they will face more than just dangerous weather as they try to make their way through the treacherous mountain pass.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and please let me know if you have any comments/questions/suggestions! Knowing that people are out there enjoying this story makes writing it all the more rewarding.


	12. Rivendell III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another update to conclude the Rivendell arc of this story. Today's POV is all Thorin's. Thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter.

**Thorin’s POV**

Thorin grunted as he held Orcrist aloft to block an incoming blow from Dwalin’s twin fighting axes. Sweat beaded on his brow; after all, he and Dwalin had been sparring for nigh an hour without rest. But Thorin would not relent. He _had_ to train, had to learn how to expertly wield his newly acquired Elvish blade. It was an elegant weapon, perfectly balanced and as sharp as a dragon’s maw.

And Thorin fully intended to use Orcrist to obtain the justice his fallen brother Frerin had long been denied.

 _I will have my revenge against Bolg_ , Thorin swore to himself as he continued to spar with Dwalin. Memories of Frerin’s death, of how he called helplessly for Thorin moments before being impaled on Bolg’s blade, raged through Thorin’s mind like a storm as he fought. Thorin still felt that he failed Frerin at that fateful battle, even if the more rational part of his mind knew that he couldn’t possibly have made it to his brother in time.

He wouldn’t fail the Company now, though. He could not. _This time,_ Thorin vowed, _I will end that bastard Orc as I should have years ago._

The thought of revenge beat in Thorin’s head as steadily as a drum as he trained, and with a final thrust he summoned the strength to disarm Dwalin once more. Dwalin did not pick up his axes as he had the other times, though. Instead, he placed a steadying hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“I think it is time for us to take a break. Walk with me,” Dwalin said, though his words were more of a command than a suggestion.

Going for a walk was about the last thing that Thorin wanted, but Dwalin remained insistent, so Thorin relented. Alaisia was deep in conversation with Balin, and Fee and Kee were still battling the Elf-twins. Once Dwalin and Thorin were out of earshot of the others, Dwalin spoke again.

“I know why you are insistent on training so intently, Thorin. I can see it in your eyes—your burning desire for vengeance against the Orc who murdered your brother,” Dwalin acknowledged, his eyes sympathetic. He hesitated for a moment. “Normally I’d be the last Dwarf to tell you this, but I suppose it falls to me seeing as no one else is saying it. You need to be careful, Thorin, that your desire for revenge does not blind you; that it does not lead you to take unnecessary risks.”

“What unnecessary risks?” Thorin growled. _If Dwalin thinks he can dissuade me from killing the Orc who slew my brother_ …

Thorin’s train of thought was interrupted as Dwalin raised his hands placatingly and cautiously continued.

“Rest assured, Thorin, that I also want to see Bolg bleed for what he did to Frerin—that lad was like a brother to me. We have to be careful in how we achieve our objective of killing Bolg, though. I don’t know if you are considering seeking him out, but if you are, I’d advise against it. You heard Lord Elrond last night. We’re outnumbered, Thorin. If we spend our strength in an attempt to chase down Bolg, we might fall right into his trap, placing our lives and the fate of our quest at risk.” Dwalin quietly said, a hint of frustration seeping into his voice.

Grudgingly, Thorin admitted to himself that Dwalin had a point. Thorin might be comfortable with the risk to his own life inherent in pursuing Bolg, but he was not willing to risk any harm coming to Alaisia, his beloved nephews, or the rest of the Company due to his recklessness.

“While I concede your point that hunting Bolg down could backfire, especially since his forces outnumber our small party, I cannot allow Bolg to continue to draw breath. There is also the issue that he is actively hunting _us_. What do you propose we do?”

Dwalin contemplated the matter for a moment. “I don’t think we have a choice but to try to evade Bolg and his fellow Orcs for the time being. Travel exclusively by daylight and try to conceal ourselves when we make camp for the evening.” Dwalin shuddered in disgust and _harrumphed_. “ _Hiding_. I’m basically proposing that we hide, I suppose. I despise it as much as you do, Thorin, but what else _can_ we do against so many Orcs when Elrond is unwilling to send warriors with us? We cannot afford delays in our effort to retake Erebor.” He sighed heavily.

Thorin stroked his beard thoughtfully. Much like Dwalin, Thorin absolutely detested the idea of essentially hiding. However, he knew that Dwalin was right; that it was better to delay a confrontation with Bolg until they could match him better in strength. Still, one lingering question nagged at Thorin’s mind.

“And what if we do encounter Bolg?” Thorin asked Dwalin, an eyebrow raised.

“Then we must fight, and we must hope that Mahal looks kindly upon our axes and swords,” Dwalin declared somberly.

Thorin nodded solemnly, his mouth set into a hard, thin line. Every bone in his body remained tense. He felt impatient, eager to get on with the journey to reclaim his homeland. Beyond that, Thorin missed his family as it once was: together and prospering in Dvergatal, not sundered and threatened. The knowledge that Eiraisia and Thornar were safe and secure in Dvergatal under the loving care of Dis, Thila, and Morak provided some consolation. But Thorin still wished that he could hold his children in his arms again; that he could hear their voices and their merry laughter. He wondered how his twins were coping with Alaisia and himself being absent for so long now.

 _The sooner we finish this quest, the better_ , Thorin mused. He sighed wistfully.

“Are you all right, Thorin?” Dwalin asked when he saw Thorin’s pensive expression.

Thorin offered a small smile to his cousin. “Aye. I was just thinking of my kids.”

“I miss those little rascals too,” Dwalin said, his voice tinged with melancholy. “Try to not worry too much, Thorin—we’ve made it this far, after all, and anything that wishes to harm you or Alaisia will have to go through me. I’ll make sure that you and Alaisia see your daughter and son again,” Dwalin vowed.

“Thank you, Dwalin,” Thorin replied.

The pair of Dwarves walked back to the courtyard in companionable silence. When they returned, they saw that Elladan and Elrohir had departed, but Alaisia, Balin, Fili, and Kili were still gathered. Thorin was pleased to see that Alaisia’s spirits had improved somewhat after speaking with Balin, for he knew that she was distressed the previous evening. Now, Alaisia was standing between Fili and Kili, speaking to them animatedly.

“I’m so proud of both of you!” Alaisia declared as she placed a loving arm around each of her nephews.

“Even though we lost?” Kili asked.

Alaisia nodded. “Of course! I don’t think any of us, even Thorin, Dwalin or I, could beat Elladan _or_ Elrohir. Those Elves have been training since long before any of us were even born. But the two of you did not make it easy for the Elf-twins to win! You put up an excellent fight; indeed, you nearly disarmed Elladan at the end. Both of you have come so far.”

 _And your father would be proud_ , Thorin finished mentally for Alaisia, though he knew neither of them wished to say it out loud. It still broke his heart that his brother-in-law Drayli could not be here to see the fine warriors his sons had become.

“Thank you, Auntie Alaisia,” Fili said. He and Kili both hugged their aunt, and Alaisia ruffled their hair affectionately.

The scene brought a smile to Thorin’s face. Even if the whole family could not be together, at least he had his wife and his nephews with him. They could enjoy some happiness in Rivendell, some peace to tide them over during the journey to come.

“Alaisia,” Thorin murmured as he drew nearer.

“Uncle Thorin!” Kili exclaimed happily. “We were wondering if you and Dwalin left to go meet with Lord Elrond. Lindir came a few minutes ago to summon Elladan and Elrohir to a meeting.”

Thorin shook his head. “No, Dwalin and I left to discuss our plan for dealing with the threat of Bolg,” he explained.

Alaisia’s face paled fractionally, and Thorin saw a hint of worry seep into her eyes.

“After talking things through, I agree with Dwalin that seeking out Bolg is folly, considering how few of us there are. We will endeavor to evade the Orcs, though only time will tell how successful that may prove,” Thorin said.

While Alaisia did not return to her former mirth, she did appear somewhat relieved at Thorin’s words. _Did she also fear that I would do something reckless? Is that what fragmented her sleep with nightmares last night?_ Thorin wondered. He wouldn’t blame her if she _did_ think that prior to now, for what he had in mind was reckless.

Seeing Alaisia, Fili, and Kili now made Thorin all the more grateful that Dwalin talked him out of pursuing Bolg directly.

Alaisia still looked weary, though, so Thorin suggested that they return to their chambers for a while. They strolled arm-in-arm through the gardens on their way, enjoying the gentle breeze that whispered through the trees and the sunlight that filtered through to reach them.

“I heard that Fili and Kili did well earlier,” Thorin said, thinking of the conversation he overheard between Alaisia and the two lads.

“They did!” Alaisia confirmed. “Sometimes, Thorin, it feels like it was just yesterday that they were wee Dwarflings toddling around Dvergatal, just yesterday that you and I were teaching them how to fire an arrow or swing a sword. Now they are capable warriors in their own right.”

Thorin chuckled. “I feel very much the same, my love. Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Mahal, they’ll probably be thinking of starting their own families in not too many years, after this quest is done.”

 _If they survive this quest_ , Thorin’s mind taunted him, but he shoved the thought away as soon as it reared its ugly head. He did not want to dwell on such a dark possibility, and he had every intention of guarding his nephews with his life if it came to that.

Alaisia sensed something was amiss, so she nuzzled into Thorin’s side as they walked. Thorin allowed himself to be comforted by the steady warmth of her proximity and shifted his arm so that it was gently encircling Alaisia’s back. He found himself thinking once again of how grateful he was to have Alaisia at his side for this mission. They both had their flaws, as well as their fears for what was to come, but Thorin felt confident that he and Alaisia could face the future together. Their friendship and love had been strengthened through fleeing dragon fire and ruin together, through facing exile, through building a new kingdom together from the ruins of abandoned halls. 

_Nothing shall break us_ , Thorin vowed silently.

* * *

Later, Thorin stretched contentedly as he wandered down the path that led to the kitchens. He felt far more at ease than he did earlier in the day. After he and Alaisia returned to their chambers, they spent a lazy few hours exploring one another’s bodies, snuggling, and reminiscing about the past until Alaisia drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Thorin had waited for a while, stroking Alaisia’s hair and caressing her cheek while she slept, until he was certain that the nightmares that plagued her the previous night would not return to haunt her again.

Now, Thorin hoped to gather some food from the kitchens to take back to Alaisia so that he could surprise her with a meal in bed when she woke up. He did not make it all the way to the kitchens, though, for he halted in his tracks when he saw two figures ahead. Though Thorin was too far away to hear the conversation, he saw Kili standing with an Elf-woman.

Thorin’s eyes widened in surprise as Kili held out a bouquet of flowers for the Elf, grinning broadly as he did so. The Elf appeared taken aback and hurriedly refused the flowers. She gave what might have been an apologetic or pitying look—Thorin was not close enough to tell which—before swiftly departing. Kili’s shoulders fell at her reaction. The bouquet hung limply from his still-outstretched hands.

With a heavy sigh, Thorin approached Kili to comfort his nephew, and also to impart some advice.

“Kee, do you want to talk about what happened?” Thorin asked gently as he rested a fatherly hand on Kili’s shoulder.

Kili sniffled and rubbed his eyes furiously, trying (to no avail, of course) to hide the evidence that he was crying.

“Yes, Uncle, thank you,” Kili answered, his voice still wavering somewhat.

Kili cast the bouquet aside as he followed Thorin to a nearby bench.

“What happened, lad?” Thorin questioned his nephew, patting him on the back comfortingly.

“After you and Auntie left this morning, I struck out for the archery range to practice with my bow. I hit several bullseyes in a row, and the most beautiful Elf-woman I’d ever seen—the one who you saw walk away, Hildarien—apparently saw and congratulated me. She is an expert archer herself and spent some time giving me some advice on how to further hone my skill,” Kili explained. “I ate lunch with her and a few other Elves, then excused myself. That’s when I got the flowers and, well, you saw how that turned out. I don’t know _what_ I was thinking…of course an Elf would never be interested in me.”

 _Poor lad_ , Thorin thought, his heart heavy with pity for his nephew. Kili was a warm and enthusiastic soul who wore his heart on his sleeve, which had left him vulnerable to heartbreak more than once before now.

“I know it feels hard now, Kili, but this attraction and disappointment will pass,” Thorin reassured him.

“Will _any_ Elven maid ever fancy me, d’you think?” Kili asked Thorin hopefully.

Thorin wrestled with the question for a minute, trying to gauge his nephew’s emotional state and wishing to avoid spurring another round of tears. He decided that honesty would be kindest. “It is certainly possible, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Kee. Elves are immortal, and we are not. And while the Dwarves of Dvergatal and the Elves of Rivendell now get along quite well, there is still the larger history of enmity between Elves and Dwarves to consider.”

“But Auntie Alaisia is descended from a union between an Elf and a Dwarf,” Kili pointed out.

“The _only_ known union between an Elf and a Dwarf, and that was a special circumstance. Celebrimbor was very fond of Dwarves,” Thorin reminded Kili.

Kili frowned. “You said only _known_ , Uncle. There could have been more. There could _be_ more in the future.”

Thorin sighed and pinched the brow of his nose. When Kili made up his mind about something, arguing with him to persuade him otherwise was like banging one’s head against a stone column. Thorin said as much to Alaisia once, but she only laughed and reminded him of his own stubbornness.

She had a point. Thorin supposed it ran in the family.

“Technically, yes, it is within the realm of possibility,” Thorin conceded, choosing his words carefully. “But are there not many lovely young dwarrowdams to court?”

Thorin had seen how young Dwarf women practically threw themselves at Fili and Kili, and he had tactfully fended off more than a few marriage proposals from lords trying to arrange a marriage between their daughter and Fili or Kili. His refusal earned the ire of a few lords, but Thorin wanted his nephews to have the freedom to marry for love just as he and Alaisia had married for love.

Kili rolled his eyes. “Of course, Uncle, but the Dwarf-maids back home only like me because I am a prince, even if I am not the heir to the throne. None of them have ever been interested in me for who I am. I thought one was, once, but I was wrong,” Kili bitterly revealed.

While it did not surprise Thorin that Kili had experienced that, it still saddened him. He wrapped an arm around Kili, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m sorry to hear that. Someday, Kili, I promise you that the right woman will come along.”

Kili mumbled his thanks, but Thorin could tell that his nephew remained unconvinced. He didn’t know what else to tell Kili, so he just sat with Kili and patted him on the back, hoping that he would start to feel better.

The two of them sat on the bench for a while until they heard a telltale rustle that signaled approaching footsteps. Thorin looked around and saw Lord Elrond striding purposefully down the path. He had given the Elf-lord his map earlier, hoping that perhaps Elrond might be able to decipher it or learn how to reveal its secrets.

“I have good news for you, Thorin Oakenshield,” Lord Elrond declared, a warm smile on his face. “While I have yet to read the map, I now know how to do so. There are indeed _faint_ signs of hidden letters on it: _cirth ithil_ , or moon runes, just as Gandalf told you. Based on my examination, though, they can only be read by the light of a specific phase of the moon. Moreover, it is so worn that we will need a special aid to see the letters even with the correct moonlight. Thankfully, I have something that will help—an aged slab of crystal that captures and magnifies the moonlight.”

Thorin’s heart hammered in his chest in anticipation. “When can we read it?” He asked.

“Tonight,” Lord Elrond replied. “You, Alaisia, and whoever else you wish to have present from the Company shall meet Gandalf and I when the moon rises. Then, I shall do my best to uncover the hidden knowledge that you seek from the map. For now, I shall return this map to your keeping, where it belongs.”

“Thank you,” Thorin murmured hoarsely as he took the map back gingerly.

Lord Elrond inclined his head in acknowledgement and left, leaving Thorin and Kili to their thoughts.

“Uncle,” Kili began, “can Fili and I join you tonight? We grew up on tales of the Mountain. I want the two of us to be there when you learn about the secret passage.”

“Of course,” Thorin answered, ruffling Kili’s hair. He sighed. “We must manage our expectations, though. It may be that the moon runes do not hold the information we hope they do.”

Kili hummed thoughtfully. Thorin fervently hoped that his fear would prove wrong, that tonight he would at last learn how to find the secret passage into Erebor. The quest relied on it.

* * *

The stars gleamed brilliantly overhead as Lord Elrond beckoned for Gandalf, Thorin, Alaisia, Fili, Kili, Balin, and Bilbo to follow him into an opening at the base of a cliff. Inside, a steep, spiraling staircase plunged upward. Torches placed at strategic intervals cast ample light over the stairs, which Thorin was grateful for as he began his ascent.

As he climbed the stairs, Thorin felt a flurry of emotions swirl within him. On the one hand, he was elated that he would soon _finally_ discover the hidden words on the map. On the other hand, Thorin couldn’t shake the worry that the message concealed might not contain the information he hoped for. Thorin glanced back at Alaisia (briefly, to avoid losing his balance on the precarious stairs), who flashed him a reassuring smile. She had an eager, almost giddy expression on her face.

Thorin silently prayed that the hope Alaisia held would bear fruit; that after so many unexpected setbacks and obstacles, the Company would finally receive some welcome news.

After what felt an eternity, Thorin’s boots landed on the final step. He followed Elrond out onto a rocky overhang partially concealed by a cascading waterfall that glimmered pleasantly in the moonlight. A break in the waterfall admitted ample moonlight, causing a crystal slab that jutted upward from the rock to glow brightly.

“It is time, Thorin. May I see the map once more?” Elrond requested.

Thorin nodded silently and offered the map to Elrond, his face pensive as he did so. He held his breath as Elrond gingerly spread the map flat on the crystal. At first, nothing happened, and Thorin worried that his worst fears had come true; that there wasn’t anything more to be learned from the old piece of parchment.

But as Thorin waited with bated breath, a soft blue glow started to emanate from the map, increasing in intensity until a series of runes were clearly visible. Several gasps of awe sounded from the Dwarves and from Bilbo, and Thorin leaned in to get a closer look at the mysterious writing. Lord Elrond hummed thoughtfully.

“Can you read the letters?” Gandalf asked him.

“Yes,” Elrond said. “It says: Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

“What is Durin’s Day?” Bilbo asked.

“It marks the beginning of the new year on the calendar of the Dwarves. This year, it will be in October,” Gandalf explained.

“Lord Elrond, would you also interpret this to mean that we can _only_ find the keyhole and open the secret door if we are there at precisely the right time, which is sunset on Durin’s Day?” Balin asked.

“I believe so. It would seem that your father and grandfather took great pains to keep this secret entrance as hidden as possible, Thorin,” Lord Elrond said.

“What if we cannot make it there by Durin’s Day? What then?” Kili asked.

“Then we will have lost our chance, and this quest, all of the obstacles that we’ve surmounted thus far, all of it will have been for naught,” Thorin whispered. He was _not_ pleased at this development. _Why did my father and grandfather have a door made that can only be unlocked one day of the year?_

There _had_ to have been a logical reason at the time, but Thorin couldn’t think of one now. Now, it was simply maddening. _How in the name of Mahal’s axe will we time our journey so perfectly as to arrive at the right time?_

Fili spoke up confidently. “We’ll make it on time. There is plenty of time to get from here to Erebor before Durin’s Day.”

“Indeed, you _must_ make it on time. I fear we cannot delay a year based on what Lord Elrond has told us of the Orcs and what Radagast has told me about the Necromancer,” Gandalf urged. “Aim to arrive early and camp on the slopes of the mountain so that you can search for a likely candidate for the door.”

Alaisia pointed to a rune drawn in red over Erebor on the map. “Lord Elrond, do you think that might be indicating the location of the door?”

Elrond shook his head. “It is certainly is possible, though I am afraid I cannot say for certain. The runes are, if I may say so, frustratingly cryptic. I do not know what is meant by a thrush knocking. I will mull it over and let you all know if I think of anything else.”

Thorin’s heart fell. Granted, they now had more information than they did before, but they still couldn’t say for sure where the door even _was_. As Thorin had feared, the map failed to provide clear answers. Perhaps his forebears made it cryptic on purpose in case the map fell into unfriendly hands; perhaps they thought they would still be alive to interpret it.

Regardless, it was now up to Thorin, Alaisia, and the rest of the Company to solve the riddle before them. Thorin only hoped they could manage to do so in time.

Thorin fell into a fitful sleep that night, as he did for many nights thereafter. The days that followed the reading of the map passed in a frenzied blur of activity. Thorin and Alaisia found their time filled with meetings with Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, and Elven scouts that had recently ventured toward the Misty Mountains. Together, they strategized the best route to and over the mountains to minimize the risk of detection, and they discussed the threat of the Orcs extensively. When Thorin, Alaisia, and other members of the Company (most often Balin and Dwalin) were not embroiled in meetings to discuss strategy, they were gathering supplies that the Elves were generous to provide.

After a few days, Lady Galadriel and the wizard Saruman arrived for the White Council meeting, and Lord Elrond no longer had as much time to meet with Thorin and Alaisia each day. Lady Galadriel looked kindly, albeit somewhat pityingly, upon the Company, though she did not speak with any of its members directly.

The pity apparent in Galadriel’s gaze was unnerving to Thorin. It almost seemed as if Galadriel knew some grim secret of the Company’s future that she concealed from everyone else. Overall, though, Thorin sensed that Galadriel herself was not a threat to his Company.

He did _not_ get the same sense from Saruman. Saruman, like Galadriel, avoided speaking with the Company, but he was still downright hostile from a distance. Thorin got the distinct impression that Saruman did not approve of the Company’s quest to reclaim Erebor; indeed, he caught Saruman watching the Company sternly, almost contemptuously, on more than one occasion.

Granted, on one of those occasions Saruman’s disapproval was more than warranted. On that occasion, Thorin had been taking a romantic stroll with Alaisia through the gardens when he heard a cacophony of shouts and splashes from a large fountain. The source of the noise was, to Thorin’s embarrassment, his own Company. His fellow Dwarves (even Fee and Kee, his own nephews!) were carousing in the water in the nude. Discarded mugs of ale and half-empty wine glasses were haphazardly tossed around the perimeter, and bits of food flew through the air and splashed in the water as the Dwarves had a food fight. Bofur climbed up on top of a rock and began singing at the top of his lungs until Nori snuck up behind him and shoved him into the water with an undignified _splash_ , at which all of the other Dwarves hooted and hollered.

Lindir, who also happened to be nearby, looked positively _horrified_ and scandalized; Saruman scowled at the scene and tapped his staff disapprovingly before turning and striding away from the rowdy gathering. Thorin and Alaisia apologized _profusely_ to Elrond after that incident, but the kindly Elf-lord insisted the apology wasn’t necessary.

During all this time, thoughts of the map and the instructions contained in the moon runes swirled in Thorin’s head as he tried to make better sense of it. He grew increasingly impatient to get on with the journey to Erebor, though he wanted to give his companions as much time to rest as possible. They would need it, need their full strength for the long trek to come.

In a roundabout way, Saruman decided the date the Company chose to leave. Thorin was having a spirited sparring match with Alaisia one morning when Gandalf summoned the pair of them for a meeting in Lord Elrond’s study. There, Elrond and Gandalf informed Thorin and Alaisia that Saruman had made it clear that he refused to condone the mission to reclaim Erebor. Apparently, Saruman remained stubbornly dismissive of all of the threats Gandalf and Elrond were concerned about, and Gandalf was worried that if the members of the Company tarried over long, Saruman might try to impede their progress.

They thus made a plan: Gandalf would see to it that all of the Company’s supplies were in one place, packed and ready for departure, and the members of the Company would leave before sunrise. Gandalf promised Thorin and Alaisia that he would follow when he could, and Elrond wished them good fortune.

While Gandalf and Elrond each shared encouraging parting words, each held a glimmer of worry in their eyes that troubled Thorin.

* * *

_Thorin found himself wandering aimlessly in a pitch-black hallway. Without warning, dozens of torches suddenly flared to life and cast a harsh light over Thorin’s surroundings. He realized from the green granite around him that he must be back in Erebor._

_The ground beneath Thorin’s feet was solid gold. He followed the path in front of him, feeling a sense of trepidation, though he couldn’t explain why. His vision blurred temporarily, and when it cleared, Thorin found himself in Erebor’s throne room, just as it was ere Smaug’s attack. Thorin felt the need to look around, to investigate his surroundings to make sure that no dragon was present, but the piles of precious gems and gold in front of him commanded his attention._

_Sweat beaded on Thorin’s brow as he stared in wonder at the wealth before him. The treasure hoard was even vaster than he remembered. Thorin felt the desperate urge to guard the valuables, to make it clear that they were his and his alone. He called out for a guard, but no one came. Thorin was alone._

_The temptation of the treasure was overwhelming in its intensity, but as Thorin began striding forward to seize his prize, the treasure cascaded away to either side, revealing a path to the throne his grandfather once sat on. The Arkenstone shone brilliantly in the throne. However, the stone tipped forward suddenly and began a steep descent, so Thorin started to run, desperate to catch the Arkenstone ere it hit the ground and broke._

_Before Thorin could reach the throne, though, the golden floor rippled, and the very ground beneath Thorin’s feet suddenly began to melt. It was like a whirlpool drawing him in. He clutched at something, anything, even a stray bauble for purchase to claw his way out, but it was to no avail. He was suffocating-_

Thorin awoke with a strangled gasp, shooting straight up in bed as he did so. As his eyes steadily adjusted to the darkness of the room, Thorin realized that it had simply been a terrible nightmare. He was still in Rivendell, not in Erebor, though the Company was due to depart Elrond’s home in a mere few hours. Thorin blinked slowly and shook his head, trying to little avail to shake off the memory of the horrid dream that had gripped him moments before.

Beside him, Alaisia remained peacefully asleep, utterly oblivious to the turmoil raging within Thorin. Thorin sighed wistfully and carefully brushed a stray lock of hair off of Alaisia’s face, then leaned down to press a shaky kiss on the nape of her neck. He drew away slowly, cautiously, not wanting to disturb his wife’s sleep. She, too, struggled far too often to sleep these days.

Unfortunately, the gesture did little to calm Thorin. The nightmare refused to leave him. He knew exactly what his dream meant, what it warned against. It was something Thorin had feared almost his whole life, ever since his grandfather succumbed to it. In Thorin’s nightmare, he, too succumbed to it.

It was the dragon-sickness, the all-consuming obsession with gold and material wealth that drove Thorin’s grandfather mad.

A wave of nausea roiled through Thorin’s gut. He used to have nightmares about the dragon-sickness frequently when he was younger, but they were always more abstract and were about his grandfather more often than not.

This one was different. It was far more vivid than Thorin’s former dreams, and far more painful.

He tried to tell himself that it was simply a nightmare regardless of how vivid it was, that it wasn’t a vision of what was to come, but the paralyzing fear Thorin woke up with would not dissipate. With a heavy heart, Thorin eased himself out of bed. Thorin would not risk succumbing once more to the nightmarish vision of the dragon-sickness. He needed fresh air, needed to clear his mind, so he decided to go for a walk.

Thorin silently slipped on a loose blue tunic, leggings, and boots. Once he was clothed, he stepped out into the pleasantly cool night air of Rivendell. His boots _clicked_ quietly on the pavement as he wandered around the Elven city.

One thought tormented Thorin relentlessly: _What if I fall to the dragon-sickness just as my grandfather did? I carry his blood in my veins, after all._

So Thorin walked and walked, trying to outpace the anxiety that plagued him by distracting himself with the serene scenery of Rivendell. Eventually, the memory of his nightmare diminished to a dull roar. It felt like he had been walking for _hours_ , but Thorin knew it could not have been more than one hour, for the moon was still ensconced in the night sky.

Thorin yawned, his weariness from interrupted sleep catching up to him at last. He took in his surroundings, his mind now somewhat less distracted, and realized that he was mere paces away from the memorial to Erebor and Dale that Elrond constructed.

 _Perhaps I was not truly aimless in my wandering_ , Thorin mused.

Flowers native to Erebor and Dale bloomed cheerily in front of the memorial, their sweet scent filling the night air and soothing Thorin’s frayed nerves. While it always provoked a tinge of sorrow for a lost home, the memorial was also a source of comfort, a reminder of what once was and that the lives lost in Smaug’s attack were not forgotten.

 _That is what matters_ , Thorin reminded himself, _reclaiming our home, the legacy of my people. Obtaining justice for those whose lives were needlessly lost in the firestorm. Not treasure, not gold._

Just as Thorin began to contemplate whether it might be worthwhile to return to the bed he shared with Alaisia and eke out a few more hours of sleep, footsteps alerted him to the fact that he was not alone. He thought at first that he had not been as quiet as he hoped; that his departure had roused Alaisia from her rest and that she had followed him to the garden. But when he turned to look in the direction of the sound, Thorin saw that his wife had not followed him after all.

Down the path, swathed in white robes and eerily illuminated by the moonlight, was the wizard Saruman.

Saruman stalked toward Thorin, his demeanor thoroughly hostile, and tapped his staff on the ground when he reached Thorin’s location.

“So, you are the Dwarf-king that Lord Elrond is playing host to,” Saruman surmised. His gaze was piercing, and his eyes contained a glimmer of cruelness as he appraised Thorin. “You are weak, much as your grandfather was before you.”

Thorin bristled. He did _not_ like Saruman’s tone. His grandfather Thror was flawed and even cruel at times in the depths of the dragon-sickness, but Thror was never weak. Thror still sacrificed his life to save Thorin’s in the end. He still triumphed over his madness one final time.

“My grandfather was not weak. He…” Thorin struggled, not wanting to yield any ground to the malicious wizard in front of him.

It did not matter what Thorin wished to say, for Saruman cut him off. “Ah, I struck a nerve there, I see. You fear something in your grandfather’s past—might if be the _dragon-sickness_?” Saruman taunted. “You should fear it, for it shadows your family’s history. Your grandfather was not the only one afflicted by that particular madness.”

“You know nothing of my family,” Thorin spat out, growing increasingly irate.

Saruman smirked. “I know quite enough, Thorin Oakenshield. I sense your fear, see your anger, and know of your nightmare.”

Thorin’s blood chilled. _How in the name of Mahal does he know about my nightmare?_ It had happened only a short while ago, and Thorin had yet to speak of it to another soul. A sense of dread filled Thorin, though he could not explain why.

Saruman noticed Thorin’s distress and scoffed at him. “Just as I said before, you are weak. You can tell yourself that it will be different, that you shall not fall prey to the avarice that drove your grandfather mad because you have your _Alaisia_ , your nephews, your children to think of. But you and I both know, Thorin, that as soon as you see the treasure in Erebor, you shall be fighting a losing battle against yourself.”

Thorin blanched. Surely Saruman was wrong, he _had_ to be wrong. However, due to how his earlier nightmare stoked his self-doubt, Thorin could not help but question whether the wizard might be right.

 _What if I do prove weak when I am tested by the wealth of Erebor? What if no matter how hard I fight the dragon-sickness, it seizes me anyway?_ The thought of that failure, the thought of the effect it would have on his family, tore at Thorin’s heart.

Thorin’s dueling emotions of uncertainty and rage were a volatile mix. The wizard was a convenient target—after all, it was he who brought about this storm of emotions. Thorin had quite enough of Saruman’s poisoned words.

“What do you want from me, wizard?” Thorin growled, his hands clenched in fists at his sides. “If you have come to torment me, I _regret_ to inform you that I will have no part of it. I have no patience for your doubts, your barbs, or your callous counsel. Be gone!”

Saruman almost appeared amused by Thorin’s outburst, which only further enraged Thorin.

“What do I want from you, Master Dwarf? I want you to abandon your absurd quest and slink back into the hole in the West of Middle-earth from whence you came!”

“Why?” Thorin challenged Saruman. The wizard’s answer was in line with what Thorin had heard of him from Gandalf and Elrond. However, Thorin still did not understand _why_ Saruman was so determined to have Erebor remain in the clutches of Smaug, for that was what abandoning the quest amounted to.

“I have no need to tell the likes of you. All I shall say is this: your beloved wizard Gandalf and I have a difference of opinion on how we should handle matters in Middle-earth. Gandalf thinks that individuals such as yourself can have important roles to play for the welfare of Middle-earth. I beg to differ,” Saruman answered, his voice icy.

Thorin had an inkling that there was more to Saruman’s reasoning; that there was much the wizard was refusing to tell him. Not wishing to waste any further time bickering with a wizard or having his own emotional state manipulated, Thorin muttered a curse in Khuzdul at Saruman and departed.

As Thorin marched away, Saruman imparted some final words. “The stone of your people shall be the end of you, Oakenshield,” he called out ominously.

Thorin froze briefly on the path, thinking of the Arkenstone in his dream and how the gold enveloped him as he tried to save it. He thought back to his grandfather and how he had to _drag_ Thror bodily out of Erebor as he refused to abandon the Arkenstone.

Thorin worried that Saruman might be right about that stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: The Dwarves and Bilbo depart Rivendell for the Misty Mountains. I'm hoping to update again in a couple of weeks roughly. If you're still reading, I'd love to hear your comments/reviews/questions/suggestions!


	13. The road goes ever on and on...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is deeply troubled by the conversation that he had with Saruman. Alaisia tries to discover the cause of her husband’s brooding as the Company sets out from Rivendell. When the Company reaches the Misty Mountains, they face great danger.
> 
> This chapter is told from Alaisia's POV. We'll return to Thorin's POV in Chapter 14.

**Alaisia's POV**

Alaisia felt the weight of sleep lift from her and, her eyes still clamped shut with drowsiness, lazily stretched an arm out to reach for Thorin. Finding nothing but empty space in the bed beside her, Alaisia slowly blinked open her eyes and scanned the room.

Thorin was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, Alaisia rose and dressed herself in her traveling gear. There was no sign of Thorin in the bath chamber either, so Alaisia returned to the bedroom and brushed past the delicate ivory curtains that obscured the balcony. A smile started to spread across her face at the sight of Thorin leaning on the edge of the balcony, staring out across the tranquil scenery of Rivendell ere dawn. However, her smile faded abruptly as Alaisia observed the tension in Thorin’s posture.

_Something must have happened to upset him_ , Alaisia thought. She walked up to him and slipped an arm around his waist, hoping to offer comfort and calming words to ease his worry, but he startled and stiffened at the sudden touch. This confirmed Alaisia’s concern, for it was quite unlike Thorin to not notice her approach.

“Alaisia,” he murmured hoarsely when he turned to her. Alaisia’s heart fell when she saw Thorin’s face, for his exhaustion was evident in the dark circles under his eyes.

She reached a hand up to cup his cheek, tenderly stroking her thumb across the arch of his cheekbone. “What happened to disturb your sleep, my love?” Alaisia asked tenderly.

Thorin closed his eyes, almost as if in pain, and shook his head ever so slightly. “I do not wish to speak of it, sweetheart. It is nothing that you need to worry about.”

Alaisia worried her lower lip between her teeth before gingerly responding to her husband. “Perhaps speaking of it would help, Thorin. It has in the past. Please, allow me to ease your burdens.”

Thorin again shook his head, more firmly this time, and swiftly removed Alaisia’s hand from his cheek. “No. Not now, Alaisia. Get ready to depart, for I wish to leave this place as soon as possible,” he answered coldly.

Stung somewhat by her husband’s dismissive and distant tone, Alaisia took a few steps back. _Shutting me out will not solve anything, you stubborn Dwarf!_ She angrily thought. Whenever something was troubling Thorin, he tended to simply brood on it until _someone_ around him (usually Alaisia, but sometimes Dwalin or Balin) spoke to him. Usually, Thorin was more amenable to discussing what troubled him. He and Alaisia did not make a practice of keeping secrets from each other—as co-rulers, that would be a recipe for disaster.

This behavior, this freezing out of any attempt at comfort or discussion, was new. Alaisia had experienced it only once before: years ago, after the battle at Azanulbizar.

_Perhaps his ill temper has to do with Bolg,_ Alaisia pondered as she gathered the rest of her supplies from her and Thorin’s chambers. Giving Thorin space for a little while seemed the best option considering the circumstances, so Alaisia left to gather the rest of the Company, sparing only a backward, wistful glance at her quarters.

She first went to make sure her nephews were awake and ready to leave. Fili certainly was, but Kili was still snoring peacefully in spite of his brother’s attempts to rouse him. Kili was a notoriously heavy sleeper; indeed, he had slept through thunderstorms while traveling on many occasions. Growing impatient, Fili attempted to pry Kili’s blanket away, which didcause Kili to stir slightly. Kili yanked the blanket back and closed his eyes once more.

“Mmph…just a few more minutes…” Kili mumbled.

Fili shrugged his shoulders at Alaisia. Alaisia walked over to the side of the bed and placed a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “Come on, Kee, it is time to go now. We must leave Rivendell before the sun rises.”

Kili sleepily mumbled once more but showed no sign of movement. Fili rolled his eyes and walked to the base of the bed where he yanked off Kili’s socks and started to tickle his feet. This caused Kili to practically leap out of the bed, much to the amusement of Fili and Alaisia, for Kili’s feet were very ticklish.

“That was a dirty trick, Fee,” Kili muttered as he leveled a drowsy glare at his brother.

Fili laughed heartily. “Aye, but it worked!”

Alaisia ruffled Kili’s hair affectionately. “I have to side with your brother on this one I’m afraid, Kee.”

Fili and Alaisia left to make sure the rest of the Company was gathering while Kili finished getting ready to leave. Most of the remaining Dwarves and Bilbo were already gathered. A small part of Alaisia was surprised to see Bilbo among those present—she knew of Lord Elrond’s offer to let Bilbo remain in Rivendell if the Hobbit wished to do so, and she knew that Bilbo was very fond of the Elven city. Bilbo had an almost mournful look on his face as he spent a few final moments taking in the beauty of Rivendell.

Nevertheless, Alaisia was glad that Bilbo decided to continue his journey. She had more confidence in him now than she did in the past, particularly after working with him on using his new Elven dagger, and she knew that his help would prove critical in the effort to burgle the Arkenstone from Smaug.

The Hobbit was not the only member of the Company sad to be leaving Rivendell. Ori was crouched, furiously marking a final sketch of Rivendell in his notebook. He had spent much of his time in Rivendell drawing its many buildings, sculptures, and gardens. The young Dwarf, displeased with Rivendell’s food at first, grudgingly came to admit that he quite liked the peaceful settlement.

Oin was also busy while waiting for the rest of the group to assemble. He rifled furiously through his pouch of medicinal herbs to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Meanwhile, Dori and Balin searched Nori’s belongings to make sure that he wasn’t trying to smuggle any stolen goods out of Rivendell. They found a few purloined items and hurriedly carted them back to the guest quarters. Nori groused over “wasted thieving” and muttered a few choice oaths in Khuzdul when Dori and Balin returned.

Others simply seemed weary from having to wake up so early, or impatient to get on with things. Thorin fell into the latter category. Alaisia sighed quietly upon seeing her husband still in the same tempestuous mood he was in earlier.

Thorin strode over to her. “It looks like we are just waiting on Kili and the Brothers Ur,” he muttered, cold impatience seeping into his tone.

Alaisia nodded softly. “Kee was having a bit of a hard time waking up, but Fee and I managed to get him up. He’ll be here soon.” She looked around and saw Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur jogging over, more provisions in tow, to join the Company.

“And now we have the Brothers Ur,” Alaisia added, her lips spreading into a hint of a smile at the additional provisions they carried. Lord Elrond was generous in what he allowed the Company to take for their journey, for which Alaisia was grateful. More provisions meant less time hunting for food on the road, and fewer delays meant the Company had a better chance of outpacing the Orcs that hunted them.

Alaisia looked at Thorin, hopeful for some sign of a shift in his demeanor, and she was rewarded with a fleeting half-smile. Thorin looked contemplative for a moment, and his lips parted ever so slightly as if he were about to speak. But then the same pained expression he wore earlier returned, and Kili came stampeding toward the group at a full sprint shortly thereafter. The moment was lost, and Thorin’s mask of determined, brooding indifference returned.

All members of the Company now accounted for, the Dwarves and lone Hobbit set out on the path leading out of Rivendell. Alaisia cast a wary backward glance over her shoulder to make sure that the group was not being followed, for she half expected Saruman to thwart their departure. Seeing no obvious threats, she set her eyes to the road ahead. The group continued their march, climbing steadily up the cliffs that surrounded the Hidden Valley, until Rivendell began to grow small in the distance.

Bilbo, who had been walking at Alaisia’s side, halted in his tracks and looked back at Rivendell wistfully as the Dwarves brushed past him.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin called out, having noticed the Hobbit’s stalling, “we must move on. Are you coming with us or are you staying behind?”

“I will see this quest through,” Bilbo announced resolutely, though his voice was small as he made his declaration.

Alaisia patted the Hobbit’s shoulder and inclined her head, motioning for him to follow.

“I know this is hard, Bilbo, and that there are many dangers on the road ahead of us. You will have a chance to return to Imladris someday,” Alaisia reassured him.

“How do you know that I will be able to return?” Bilbo asked.

“I do not know for certain, but I hope that it will be so. We will do our best to protect you, and you have gained some skill with your new Elven blade. Have confidence in yourself, Master Baggins,” Alaisia kindly said.

Bilbo offered a weak smile in return and resumed his trek up the path.

* * *

As the Company traveled toward the Misty Mountains, they crossed over rugged landscapes dotted with merely brush and rocks, along cliffsides concealed by waterfalls, and over jagged inclines in the foothills.

During their journey, Thorin remained largely silent and brooding except for when orders needed to be given to the Company. Alaisia slept beside her husband each night, but he still remained stubbornly distant, even going so far as to sleep with his back to her. He would not touch her, not even a simple kiss or caress, and every time Alaisia made any sort of an overture, she was rejected.

Alaisia still had utterly no idea why her husband had suddenly shut himself off from the world. Something had happened that last night in Rivendell to frighten him, Alaisia surmised, though she could not help her husband unless he agreed to talk about it. It broke her heart to see him suffering and to live with the distance between her and her husband each day. Thorin’s ill temper was noticed by others in the Company too, but Thorin would not tell anyone what troubled him.

One day near dusk, the time when the travelers generally halted their journey for the day to make camp, Bilbo went ahead to scout for potential danger. Eager to prove himself, Bilbo had volunteered to do so since the Company’s first night out of Rivendell. Each day he had crept ahead silently, and each time he had seen no sign of danger.

Until this evening, that is. Just as Alaisia began to remove her weapons for the night, Bilbo came scurrying back to the company, his eyes wide in alarm.

“Up ahead,” he breathlessly began, “up ahead there is a small camp of Orcs. I counted ten.”

“What were they doing?” Thorin asked forcefully.

Bilbo paused to catch his breath. “They were sitting around a fire, talking in Orcish with one another. I have no idea what they were saying, but they were armed. It looked as if they might be planning something. I can’t say for sure, though.”

Alaisia re-armed herself. “Thank you for telling us, Bilbo. You did well, and it was the right choice to come back here rather than face all of those Orcs yourself. Stay here. Thorin and I will go, along with Kili as we are all skilled with a bow. Fili, Nori—the two of you are excellent with short swords. You’ll sneak into the camp to kill the remaining Orcs while Thorin, Kili, and I dispatch as many as we can with our bows.”

Thorin nodded decisively. “Aye. The rest of you, stay here and guard the camp in case there are others nearby. Where there are some Orcs, there are almost certainly others.”

Alaisia pulled out her bow to have it at the ready. Ere she left with Thorin and the others, she turned to Bilbo. “If Orcs attack, remember what I taught you. Stay close to Dwalin and Balin. They’ll look after you.”

Bilbo nodded solemnly, and his shifted his hand to rest on the hilt of his sword.

Thorin, Alaisia, Fili, Kili, and Nori crept away from their camp as the sun continued to fall in the sky. They ventured along the hillside until they came to an overlook. Below, just as Bilbo had described, was a roaring campfire and a camp filled with Orcs. A horrid stench arose from it, though Alaisia could not say whether it was from the mystery meat being roasted over the fire or from the Orcs themselves. Ragged, makeshift tents were scattered around the perimeter. Some of the Orcs were at the campfire, while others were busying themselves around the camp.

Fili gestured at Nori to follow him, and the pair slipped off with their blades drawn to sneak around behind the Orcs. Kili, Alaisia, and Thorin all nocked arrows to their respective bows, each Dwarf aiming at a different Orc around the fire. When Fili and Nori gave the signal that they were ready to attack from the rear, the three archers released their arrows. Alaisia smiled grimly as she saw her arrow sink satisfyingly into the throat of her target.

The deaths of three Orcs in short order alarmed the remaining Orcs in the camp as they rushed over to the corpses and tried to figure out where exactly the arrows came from. While the Orcs were utterly befuddled by what had just happened, Fili and Nori ran in and used the distraction of their foes to their advantage. Two more Orcs fell in short order, one which was stabbed through the chest by Fili, and another which got a dagger lodged in its gut by Nori.

Kili, Alaisia, and Thorin each shot one more Orc, leaving just two remaining. Those two tried to flee, perhaps to alert other Orcs in the area, but Thorin shot one, and Fili and Nori grabbed the other before it could escape.

Fili raised his sword to deliver the killing blow, but Alaisia called out to stop him. “Wait! Let’s try to question him. We may be able to get useful information about who he serves or if there are other Orcs in the area.”

It was a long shot—this Orc might not even speak the Common Tongue for all Alaisia knew—but it was at least worth a try. A dead Orc would certainly yield no information of worth.

Fili and Nori dragged the squirming, screeching Orc up the hillside to Thorin, Alaisia, and Kili. The Orc spat angrily on the ground and hissed at them. Thorin leveled a steely stare at it.

“How many more of you are around here, Orc-scum?” Thorin growled.

The Orc cackled as it looked at them. Alaisia brought the tip of her blade to its throat in response.

“Answer him,” she commanded, her eyes glinting dangerously in the moonlight.

“Or else what? You’ll kill me?” The Orc taunted. “I’m as good as dead anyway.”

_So, this one does speak Common_ , Alaisia thought.

Nori _harrumphed_ and hit the Orc with his knee, hard.

“Can you at least tell us who you serve?” Kili asked hopefully.

The Orc laughed cruelly. “Oh, my master will have fun killing you, Dwarf-trash. He’ll have fun killing all of you. You won’t know he is coming. He swore to kill the one they call Oakenshield.”

At this, Alaisia pressed Dauntless closer against the Orc’s exposed throat, her cheeks flaming with rage. “Is your master Bolg?” She asked, ready to slit the Orc’s throat the second she had her answer.

The Orc’s beady eyes narrowed. “Ah, you must be the she-Dwarf that Oakenshield crowned Queen. My master has plans for you as well.”

Thorin snarled at this revelation, knocked Alaisia’s sword out of the way, and plunged Orcrist clean through the Orc’s head. He kicked the Orc to pull out his blade.

“We have all the information we needed, or at least all that he was willing to tell us,” Thorin offered in explanation. “Bolg is this Orc’s master. There are likely others around. We must be careful.”

With that, Thorin strode back toward the camp, and the other Dwarves trailed after him, watching the horizon for any sign of unfriendly movement.

Later that night, when Alaisia was almost asleep, she felt Thorin reach out and caress her cheek. He had not done so since they went to bed on their last night in Rivendell. Hope flared in Alaisia that perhaps finally the events of this evening were enough to break through Thorin’s brooding; that he might open up to her once more. Alaisia leaned eagerly into her husband’s touch and kissed him passionately. It was almost a desperate kiss, and Alaisia felt tears brim at the corner of her eyes.

Thorin returned it with equal passion, and Alaisia felt the tension slip away from him for a moment. She was holding her husband, the Thorin she knew and loved dearly, in her arms, not the distant man he had been since they left Rivendell.

“I love you,” Thorin said as he broke off the kiss.

“I love you too,” Alaisia whispered as she searched her husband’s face. She saw exhaustion, hurt, and something else—fear perhaps? Worry?

The distance between her and Thorin had _hurt_ , badly, but that wasn’t even what troubled Alaisia the most. What bothered her the most was the obvious torment her husband was feeling, and her powerlessness to help him work through it. If she could simply get him to speak with her about it, she might be able to do something.

“Thorin,” Alaisia murmured, her voice breaking as she made her plea, “ _please_ don’t shut me out any longer. Talk to me, my love. We will face this together, just as we always have.”

Thorin shut his eyes as if he was willing the source of his distress to go away. “I can’t. I must work through this alone.”

With that, he withdrew his touch and turned his back to her, and Alaisia felt alone once more. She laid silently in their shared bedroll for a while longer, staring wistfully up at the stars, until the tears trickling down her cheeks slowed and exhaustion overcame her.

* * *

The next few days passed in somewhat of a blur. Much to Alaisia’s chagrin, Thorin closed himself off entirely again. The Company continued to press onward, though they were warier after the scuffle with the Orc encampment. They took greater care to conceal their evening campsites, sometimes walking far longer each day to find a suitable place to rest. Four Dwarves took each watch instead of just two.

By now, the Dwarves had begun their ascent of the Misty Mountains, so they were traversing extremely rocky and uneven terrain. Sometimes this made their daily treks difficult, but the advantage was that they now had more secure places to camp. Three days after the Orc skirmish, the Company found a shallow space set back under a ledge.

Bombur set up a small fire and started cooking a delicious-smelling stew for dinner. While he cooked, Gloin, Oin, Balin, and Dwalin stood guard at the edge of the campsite. Alaisia sat with Bilbo and Ori, looking over some of Ori’s many sketches of their adventure thus far and watching as he continued his efforts to sketch every member of the Company. She looked up briefly and caught Thorin’s eye, but he looked away before she could communicate with him.

“Stew’s ready—” Bombur began, a cheery grin on his face, but his words were interrupted by rocks crumbling at the edge of the ledge covering the camp. Everyone stilled, and it was then that they heard _huffs_ and scuffling overhead. Thorin signaled for everyone to arm themselves, and Bilbo crept out to investigate before Alaisia could stop him. As soon as he stepped out from the ledge, a hideous arm reached out and grabbed him, eliciting a _yelp_ of surprise from the curly-haired Hobbit.

Alaisia charged out, Dauntless drawn, ready to slay whatever had taken the innocent Hobbit. She heard her companions rush out behind her, and a chorus of metal sang out as everyone drew their weapons of choice.

They were under attack. A small party of Orcs had them surrounded, and one of them had Bilbo in a chokehold.

“Come with us quietly and drop your weapons if you care about the halfling,” one of the Orcs hissed.

Kili, the last Dwarf to linger in the cave, had other plans. His bow drawn, he snuck out of the cave on the side nearest the Orc that had Bilbo and quickly released an arrow. The Orc holding Bilbo let out a strangled gasp and released Bilbo as it grasped at its throat. It fell shortly thereafter, and Alaisia grabbed Bilbo by the arm and hauled him behind her.

Bilbo drew his sword, which glowed a brilliant blue in the presence of the Orcs.

“I can fight,” he said, though his voice was slightly shaky.

“Only if you need to!” Alaisia sternly commanded. “Let us take care of this.”

As she finished speaking, she heard a series of low growls behind her. A group of Wargs, each with an Orc rider, appeared at the edge of the ledge above where the Company had made their camp.

_I suppose that explains the sounds we heard_ , Alaisia thought darkly. She had little time to think, though, for the Wargs leapt down and went in for the attack. One charged up to her, but she swiftly dodged its gnashing teach and slashed at its knees with her sword. It staggered, howling in pain, and reared so that its Orc rider was launched off its back. Alaisia slit the Orc’s throat and spun to stab the Warg’s flank while it was still stunned.

Thorin had taken care of another one of the Wargs by plunging Orcrist into its belly, but there were still four more Wargs and at least two dozen Orcs to contend with. Dwalin roared out a war cry: _Baruk_ _Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!_ He brandished his fighting axes, spinning them menacingly. This sparked just enough fear in the Orcs in front of him for them to hesitate for a moment, giving Dwalin an opening to behead one Orc and embed his axe in the chest of the other Orc.

“Who’s next?” Dwalin challenged, daring any Orc to meet their end on the edge of his axes.

Another Orc came after Alaisia, and she rushed to meet its blade with her own. The finer metal of her blade _clanged_ harshly with the cruel, unevenly shaped blade of the Orc as she blocked its swing. Alaisia dodged another blow and delivered a kick to the Orc’s flank, sending it off-balance. Before the Orc could regain its balance, Alaisia drove her sword into it and kicked the Orc once more to shove it off of her blade.

She heard a sudden movement behind her and turned to see another Orc attacking her from the rear. It had raised its weapon to deliver a painful strike, but it abruptly fell back and grimaced in pain, clutching its leg. Behind the Orc stood Bilbo, his eyes wide at the Orc blood dripping from his Elven blade.

“I…I cut out its legs, just like you did with that Warg,” Bilbo explained.

Alaisia beamed. “You did well, Bilbo,” she praised him as she delivered the killing blow for that Orc.

She looked around the battlefield to take stock of things. Warg corpses were scattered across the ground, as were quite a few Orc corpses, but there were still more Orcs to fight. Bifur headbutted an Orc with the axe in his head and Bombur swung his large soup ladle at the same Orc to further daze it. Bofur finished the job with his axe.

_We fight well together. Perhaps we shall survive this journey yet_ , Alaisia thought, proud as she looked upon the Dwarves that had answered her and Thorin’s call to retake Erebor.

Alaisia charged into the fray, punching one Orc that tried to swing a mace at her and hewing its arm with her blade. She slashed the Orc once more to finish it before turning and planting her blade deep in the gut of another Orc that ran toward her. The sounds of battle roared around her, until with a sickening _crunch_ the last Orc crumpled to the ground.

“Time to pay up, Gloin, I got the last one after all,” Nori grinned mischievously as he wiped the Orc blood off of his dagger with a handkerchief that had a suspiciously Elven appearance. It seemed Dori and Balin had _not_ found all of the stolen goods on Nori’s person after all.

Gloin grumbled something and tossed a light bag of coin to Nori, who pocketed the bag with a sly smile.

_When in Mahal’s name did they have time to place a bet during this?_ Alaisia wondered, amused at the exchange.

“Is anyone hurt?” Oin asked, his satchel of healing supplies at the ready. Oin walked around to everyone, fussing over them and making sure that no one was injured.

Unfortunately, the members of the Company had little time to congratulate themselves on a hard-won victory or to rest, for they heard a loud noise in the distance that sounded suspiciously like more Orcs coming after them.

“We must move on. More are coming, and I don’t know if we can face all of them,” Thorin said.

“What about our supplies?” Ori innocently asked. His voice was quavering a bit with fear.

“Gather what you can but be quick about it! We cannot afford to waste time,” Thorin commanded, staring in the direction the noises had come from.

Alaisia looked to Balin, who had come to her side. “It is as I feared. They are tracking us,” she said to him.

“Aye, lass, this does not bode well,” Balin agreed, looking worried. “Our best hope is to evade them or hope that we can continue to face a smaller number at a time.”

After rapidly gathering what they could, the members of the Company fled further up the mountain trail, eager to place as much distance between them and the Orcs as possible. They could only run so fast, though, which was made harder by how unstable the trail became as they continued onward. The trail had narrowed substantially and was flanked by a precipitous drop to one side, and to make matters worse, claps of thunder sounded in the sky. Rain began to cascade down on the Company, and the trail beneath their feet became treacherously slippery.

Alaisia spared a look behind her and saw that the Orcs were gaining ground. There were far more than merely two dozen Orcs in this group. If the Orcs were on foot, though, there was still a chance that the Company could manage to outrun them.

But then Alaisia and the others heard eerie _howls_ join the raucous thunder overhead, and as they looked back, they saw a horde of Orcs on Wargs charging toward them. They were too far to make out individual faces, but the Orcs were rapidly gaining ground.

“Faster!” Thorin shouted, ushering his companions further along. Bilbo had a hard time keeping up, so Dwalin hoisted the Hobbit over his shoulder as he ran.

Rocks crunched as the Wargs came ever closer, and Alaisia looked to Thorin. They could try to fight, but their odds were not great under the current circumstances. They could try to keep fleeing, but the Wargs would inevitably catch up. There was a high chance of death either way.

Just as Alaisia started to contemplate fighting, for at least that way they could die honorably, a large _crack_ sounded in the mountainside above the Company. They looked up in time to see rock cascading down and fled up the path, out of harm’s way, as the rock sealed the path behind them. On the other side of the rockfall, Alaisia heard Wargs snarling, but the rockfall was too dense and too tall for any foe to break through.

“We’re saved,” Oin breathed out in relief.

“I wouldn’t say that just yet,” Dwalin warned. “Look over there—this was no natural avalanche.”

The rest of the group followed Dwalin’s pointing hand and saw a stone giant ahead, raising a boulder to throw. The boulder soared through the air, hitting another stone giant behind the Company not far from where the rocks fell and closed the path.

“What are we going to do?” Ori wailed. The poor lad was shaking like a leaf from fear.

Beside him, Bilbo’s mouth was opened in shock. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“We must find shelter!” Thorin ordered. “Our only choice is to move forward. Stay close to one another and do not fall.”

The Dwarves and Bilbo continued along the trail as it grew narrower still until they could barely walk single file. They hugged the cliff face as they shuffled along, keeping an ear out for any further avalanches as the battle of the stone giants raged around them. A thunderstorm continued to dump buckets of rain from the sky, and more than once Dwalin and Bofur had to catch Bilbo to prevent him from slipping into the abyss below.

_Don’t look down_ , Alaisia willed herself as she continued along the path, now shimmying along the cliff almost sideways due to how narrow it was.

There was hope, though—up ahead, the path seemed to widen again. If they could just make it there, perhaps they might find shelter to wait out the storm and plan their next move.

Just as they were about to reach the wider portion of the path, though, an earth-splitting _crack_ sounded in the middle of the Company. Alaisia watched in horror as rock crashed and large chasm opened up, separating her from her beloved nephews. Roughly half of the Company was on the other side of the chasm, stranded on precarious footing. Alaisia reached for some rope in her pack, thinking to toss it to the others, but the stone they were on started to move again, and it was then that Alaisia realized the others were on the leg of a stone giant.

The stone giant bearing half of the group marched out and struck another stone giant not far from where Thorin, Alaisia, and the others were, but it was not strong enough. The other stone giant delivered a powerful blow that sent the stone giant with Fili and Kili reeling, and the platform they were on began careening into the mountainside.

“Nooooo!” Thorin roared out in grief as he rushed over to the site of the crash.

Alaisia was stunned to silence. _I failed her_ , she thought of her pledge to her sister-in-law. _I failed my beloved nephews._ Tears streamed down her face as she rushed after Thorin to search for any sign of their nephews.

For a moment, all was silent, and Alaisia worried that her fear was confirmed; that Fili, Kili, and the other members of the Company on the stone giant had perished. As she watched, though, the remnants of the stone giant fell away. On the path ahead of where the stone giant had fallen were the Dwarves that it had unwittingly carried, including Fili and Kili.

Alaisia and Thorin ran to their nephews. The path was wider there, so they were able to embrace Fili and Kili.

“Thank Mahal you two are safe. I love you boys,” Alaisia murmured through her tears as she kissed the foreheads of Fili and Kili.

“I am glad that you two are alive. I…I feared the worst,” Thorin added somberly.

The family’s moment of relief was interrupted by a startled cry for help. Alaisia’s gaze snapped back toward the others, and she saw that Bilbo was hanging off of the ledge.

“He slipped and lost his balance,” Bofur explained. He and a few other Dwarves, including Dwalin, were trying to reach for Bilbo, but the Hobbit had fallen just out of their reach. Bilbo’s grip on the ledge was slipping by the second.

Alaisia sprinted over to Bilbo, stumbling slightly on the slippery rock, and lowered herself down onto a precarious ledge just above him to try to boost him up. She couldn’t get a good enough grip on him, though, and felt her own grip slipping. Bilbo’s hold on the rock loosened, and with a final attempt, Alaisia managed to grab onto him before he fell. The weight of holding him was too much, though, and she felt that she might fall any moment.

_I have to hold on_ , she thought grimly as she looked at the Hobbit dangling precariously from her hand. Dwalin and Bofur tried to grab Alaisia and failed when the thin ledge beneath her feet crumbled. Now, Alaisia was only supported by her grip on a small indent in the rock. It was too slippery for her to hold on to for long. She felt her grip start to fail and furiously tried to hold on, but then a strong, familiar hand grabbed hers.

“I’ve got you!” Thorin shouted. Supported by Dwalin and Bofur holding him in place, he grabbed Alaisia and hoisted her up, Bilbo in tow. Thorin pulled her over to where the path widened and embraced her, clutching her desperately to his body.

“Why did you do that, _amralime_? You could have died.”

A million thoughts were swirling in Alaisia’s head, but she was exhausted. It wasn’t just from her near-death experience moments before. She was also exhausted from the battle earlier, from running, from the days of near total silence she had faced from Thorin, her husband and the love of her life. She knew he loved her, and she loved him with all of her heart, but he could be so damned stubborn at times. Still, she was grateful to him for saving her life. Without Thorin’s timely intervention, Alaisia and Bilbo would have fallen to their deaths.

“Someone had to save him, Thorin,” Alaisia answered simply, too weary and shocked still to say anything else. “Thank you for catching us.”

Thorin delicately brushed a stray lock of hair out of Alaisia’s face and marched over to Bilbo, his face a maelstrom of emotion.

“You,” Thorin said in disgust, “you are not worth my wife almost dying over. You have been lost ever since you left The Shire. You have no place amongst us. It would have been better if you had stayed in Rivendell, or if you had fallen into that chasm.”

Alaisia knew Thorin wasn’t himself and that this outburst was likely linked to his bad mood from whatever had happened to make him brood for days on end. But something inside her snapped upon hearing Thorin’s cruel diatribe against Bilbo, and she decided enough was enough.

“Thorin!” Alaisia admonished. “What happened is _not_ Bilbo’s fault! These are treacherous conditions that _any_ of us could have fallen in. _I_ chose to try to save him. If I had died, that would have been solely on me. I am sick and tired of you constantly berating, belittling, and judging that poor Hobbit when he abandoned his home to _help_ us! He has indeed helped us already—he bought time for us to survive the encounter with the trolls, he slew a wolf, he found that Orc camp, and he cut the legs of an Orc that was trying to kill me in the battle earlier tonight. Stop being a biased arsehole!

“I’ve avoided this conversation for too long, and for that I am sorry. We need to work together, to trust one another, and set animosity aside if we want to succeed. And while we are talking about your stubborn behavior, let’s talk about the fact that you have ignored me and closed yourself off from me for days, Thorin, with only brief respite ever since we departed Rivendell. We’ve been married for _decades_. We’ve ruled as King and Queen for _decades_. We have two children together. I love you with all my heart, but Mahal help me you are a stubborn oaf at times!

“If you do not want to talk about whatever happened that upset you, that’s fine, but don’t act as if I don’t exist, isolate yourself, and expose everyone to your terrible temper. One minute you won’t talk to me and the next you hold me to you like nothing has changed. Will you stop talking to me again now and go back to brooding instead of talking things through like the partners we are?”

The rest of the Company stared at the King and Queen in stunned silence. Bilbo shifted to hide behind Dwalin, evidently not wanting _any_ part in this dispute, though he did cast a grateful look at Alaisia. Balin was looking at Thorin with a raised eyebrow, for he had also noticed Thorin’s behavior and attempted to talk him out of his brooding silence to no avail.

For his part, Thorin had the decency to look ashamed. His face went white, and he lowered his head. “Alaisia, I—” he broke off, uncertain what to say.

“Only speak to me again, only hold me again, when you’re ready to set the cold, distant visage you’ve adopted aside. We’re on a life or death quest, and I cannot afford to have my emotions compromised. I need to focus on our survival,” Alaisia said to Thorin.

She did not trust herself to say anything more, for she feared that she might break down in tears at any moment. Alaisia was unwilling to show any sign of weakness. She needed to be strong, needed to be the confident Queen that her people deserved, needed Thorin to know his actions had hurt. The Orcs would find another way around the rocks and pursue the Company again soon enough. They had to keep moving.

Alaisia looked at her husband sadly before turning and continuing down the trail. The Company walked in silence after that with Bilbo at the rear. He looked guilty, and Alaisia wondered if he blamed himself for the fight between her and Thorin.

_It is not your fault, little Hobbit_ , she thought tiredly.

After what felt like an hour of marching in the rain, the Company found a cave hidden in the side of the mountain. They all agreed to rest there for the night, but only after carefully inspecting the cave to make sure no unwelcome or hostile forces were present. It was dark, but thanks to her Dwarvish ability to see well in dark places, Alaisia could just make out the shadows of the walls of the cave.

“This seems safe enough,” Balin declared. “Let’s rest here for tonight. We can discuss how to proceed in the morning.”

Bilbo remained standing at the edge of the cave, clearly hesitant about entering. He looked at Alaisia, his expression conflicted.

_Does he want to go back to Rivendell? Has he had enough of us, of this quest?_ Alaisia wondered.

Before she could fully process that thought, Thorin approached her. Alaisia steeled herself. Her sorrow and the emptiness caused by days of Thorin ignoring her had frozen over into a cold anger. It was made worse by how he briefly seemed to return to his senses after the skirmish with the Orcs a few days ago, only to immediately return to the same pattern of rejection.

Even with her anger, though, Alaisia just wanted her husband back. That was why she had finally snapped and called him out on his bullshit, though she regretted that it had to be in front of the whole Company.

“Alaisia, please hear me out,” Thorin began.

Circumstances did not allow him to finish. The ground beneath their feet started to shift until it collapsed entirely. Thorin tried to reach for Alaisia as she fell, but he and the rest of the Company started to fall as well. It was a trap floor, though Alaisia did not know who might have set such a trap.

Alaisia felt a sharp pain as she collided with the ground, and the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Runs and hides* I'm sorry for the angst and for the cliffhanger! I've gotten a good amount of work done on Chapter 14, and I've settled into a regular writing pattern again, so the next chapter should only be 1-2 weeks away. 
> 
> Khuzdul translations:   
> Amralime: My love  
> Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!: The Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!


	14. Courage from Unlikely Places

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company of Thorin Oakenshield falls into Goblin Town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin received Thrain's ring, one of the Seven Rings of the Dwarves, before the Battle of Azanulbizar in the first story in this series. I mention it briefly in this chapter, and it will become more important later on in the story.

**Thorin's POV**

The ringing in Thorin’s head slowly cleared as he blearily opened his eyes. He was in a dark and musty chamber lit with only a handful of torches, and his hands were bound tightly behind his back. His memories felt jumbled and hazy, more like fragments of feelings than recollections of past experiences.

 _Where am I? Who captured me?_ Thorin wondered, wincing as he tried to move. He clamped his eyes shut against the pain. Slowly, the fog of unconsciousness faded further, and Thorin realized with a panicked start that his captors had relieved him of his weapons. Thankfully, two familiar weights still pressed gently on Thorin’s chest: the key to Erebor and the ring his father gave him prior to Azanulbizar. The ring was one of the Seven Rings of the Dwarves, though few others were privy to that secret, and it was one of a precious few things that Thorin had left of his father.

Comforted by the knowledge that his captors had not taken _all_ of his belongings, Thorin took a few steadying breaths. Flashes of the events leading up to this moment flitted through Thorin’s mind as he laid there breathing quietly, and he groaned when his memories finally came flooding back to him.

He remembered their treacherous journey through the mountains as they tried to flee the Orcs.

He remembered almost losing his beloved Alaisia to the chasm beneath the Company.

He remembered Alaisia’s words as she (rightly) called him out on his boorish behavior.

He remembered the look of mingled hope, sorrow, and anger on Alaisia’s face before the ground gave way beneath her feet.

He remembered trying in vain to grab her before he, too, fell into the pit, along with the rest of the group.

Thorin sighed wistfully. _I was such a fool_ , he thought, remembering how he had pushed Alaisia away relentlessly since the morning they left Elrond’s home. Every kiss, every touch, every attempt at comfort that Alaisia had offered, Thorin ignored. He had refused to speak to her other than times where it was necessary, and he had refrained from showing any affection to her. The only time he did, he shut himself off again shortly thereafter. Thorin recalled how he turned his back on Alaisia in their bedroll each night and grimaced.

 _If she had fallen to her death, I could never have forgiven myself_ , Thorin thought as shame over his behavior seized him. _Did she worry that I no longer loved her? At the very least, she was understandably hurt by my utter rejection of her._

For rejection it had been, though it was meant from a place of love.

Thorin had shut Alaisia out because he wanted to protect her. He didn’t want to worry her over his past fear of the dragon-sickness coming back to haunt him, first in that initial nightmare, then in Saruman’s words, then in many more nightmares since then. He didn’t want to tell her of the details of his conversation with Saruman. Thorin viewed it as his own weakness, his own burden, a personal failing that _he_ had to sort through. He didn’t want to hurt his wife by making her aware of it. A small (admittedly quite irrational) part of him was also afraid that Alaisia would reject him if she knew.

Thorin thought that with enough time, he could work through his fears regarding the dragon-sickness on his own and go back to the way things were between him and Alaisia before. She would never know the struggle he had faced; it could simply be forgotten.

It was utterly stupid and irresponsible.

Alaisia’s stern words had snapped Thorin out of his illogical state and helped him realize that instead of protecting the woman he loved, he was breaking her heart. How could he have _ever_ thought it was a good idea to not talk to her? And even if he chose not to tell her what precisely had disturbed him, how could he have thought it was a good idea to shut her out entirely?

Alaisia was angry in the moment that she called him out, but Thorin knew her well enough to see the emotions that she kept barely hidden beneath the surface. He saw the poorly concealed tears forming behind her eyes, heard the pain in her voice.

 _I caused that pain_ , Thorin thought with a grimace. _Mahal, what have I done?_

He knew that he must talk to Alaisia and be honest with her about what had happened. His own grandfather failed to do that, and Thror’s isolation only guaranteed the dragon-sickness. Thorin and Alaisia had always relied on one another, had always supported one another, and this would be no different.

But first, Thorin owed her a heartfelt apology.

 _Is she even here?_ Thorin thought with alarm. He tried to move to look around more, but his whole body protested vehemently in pain. All of his muscles felt stiff, presumably from the combined effects of the fall and lying unconscious for Mahal knew how long on the hard ground he was deposited on. With some effort, Thorin managed to push himself up with his legs.

As Thorin looked around, he realized that all of his companions must have also lost consciousness during the fall. He appeared to be the first Dwarf to wake up. Among the Dwarves scattered around him, Thorin saw his nephews, but he saw no sign of Alaisia. Panic threatened to take hold, but Thorin willed himself to stay calm. He needed to rouse his companions, and together they would find Alaisia.

Thorin dragged himself over to Fili and Kili as best he could with his hands bound and nudged them both until they woke up.

“Boys,” Thorin choked out. “Are you hurt? Are you all right?”

“We’re fine, Uncle,” Fili answered, coughing slightly.

“Where are we?” Kili asked. “Where’s Auntie?”

“I don’t know where she is,” Thorin’s voice broke. “She fell too, but I don’t see her among us.”

There was also no sign of Bilbo. _He probably went back to Rivendell. I don’t blame him, honestly, after how I treated him._ Thorin had plenty of time to contemplate his wife’s words in the time between their argument and their fall, and he knew she was right. He had treated Bilbo deplorably.

A shuffling motion startled Thorin, Fili, and Kili, and they all fell to the ground to listen. A grizzled voice began to speak.

“Toss this wench back in there with the others. Caught her trying to steal their weapons back, plottin’ to set ‘em all loose. Knocked her unconscious again, I did, stupid Dwarf brat. Taught her a lesson.”

Thorin’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized the voice was likely speaking of Alaisia. _She’s always been reckless when it comes to trying to help those she cares about_ , Thorin thought as he listened. He was proud of Alaisia for having managed to escape and proud of her for trying to free the rest of the group, but he was also terrified at the voice’s final words.

He twisted slightly, trying to look in the direction of the voice without alerting it to the fact that he was now awake, and managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of its source. There were several goblins gathered around. One handed Alaisia off to a larger goblin, who threw her unceremoniously into the pit with the other Dwarves.

She fell with a _thud_ and made no sound.

 _Is she alive? Is she all right?_ Thorin thought desperately. _I need to see her_. He knew if he moved while the goblins were there, he might be taken away before he was able to check on her, so he waited until the goblins’ footsteps retreated to crawl over to Alaisia.

“Alaisia!” He called out in a sharp whisper. “Sweetheart, are you all right? I love you. I’m so sorry for how I acted before—I promise I’ll explain everything. I just need you to wake up.”

Alaisia’s face was pale, but Thorin heard her breath coming in faint puffs, so he knew she was still alive. She had small cuts on her face as well as several bruises forming. More alarming was a cut on her leg. Although it did not look very deep, it was oozing blood and needed to be wrapped.

Thorin tried nudging her to wake her up and got close enough to kiss her head. Nothing he did caused her to stir.

“Please, Mahal, don’t let me lose her,” Thorin prayed fervently.

Kili and Fili had managed to work their way to his side by now and also tried their best to wake up Alaisia.

“I hope you plan to apologize to her when she wakes up, Uncle,” Fili said, his voice cold.

Thorin sighed. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his nephews would also be upset with him. Fili and Kili loved their aunt dearly, and Thorin had also been distant toward them since leaving Rivendell.

 _Alaisia is not the only person I’ve hurt_ , Thorin realized as he reflected upon how he had treated his nephews, Balin, Dwalin, and honestly the rest of the Company recently. His ill temper, along with his brooding and isolated demeanor, impacted all of them to some degree or another.

 _That is not the type of King I have been in the past, nor is it the type of King I wish to become_ , Thorin vowed. _I will never become my grandfather._

“I’m sorry, lads, truly I am. I know I’ve been a complete arse, and I promise that I won’t make this mistake again.”

Fili and Kili nodded, appeased for now by their uncle’s words. While the three of them were talking and trying unsuccessfully to help Alaisia regain consciousness, the rest of the Company had stirred.

“What’s wrong with Alaisia?” Dwalin asked, alarmed at the sight of the strong Dwarf woman weakly crumpled to the ground. “What did our captors do to her?”

“We were captured by goblins. I overheard them talking about how she tried to escape and retrieve our weapons to free us. They knocked her out again, and cut her leg,” Thorin managed in a pained whisper.

Dwalin unleashed a chain of curses in Khuzdul and furiously worked at the bindings that sealed his hands. The guardsman loved Alaisia like a little sister and did not take kindly to threats to her health.

“I’ll teach those slimy bastards a lesson, mark my words,” Dwalin swore.

“First we have to find a way out of here,” Balin said.

“And find my healing supplies,” Oin muttered pensively.

“Is anyone able to remove their bindings?” Thorin asked hopefully. He was met with silence. The goblins had tied up all of them too securely; perhaps they had tightened everyone else’s bindings after Alaisia’s attempted escape.

Thorin looked down at his wife again, unsure what he could do to help her while bound. He _hated_ the feeling of powerlessness that gripped him, so he continued to strain helplessly against the rope that encircled his hands.

 _If I could free myself and the others, we could at least get her out of here_ , Thorin decided.

A shadow appeared, causing Thorin to flinch. It seemed that at least one goblin had returned. _What do they want from us? Gold? Weapons?_ Thorin wondered. He braced himself for a confrontation, but when the figure the shadow belonged to stepped into the light, Thorin saw it was not a goblin at all.

Bilbo Baggins had returned to rescue the Company.

“Thank goodness I found you all! I’m only sorry that I couldn’t get here sooner. I found another way into the tunnels after you lot fell in, but then I fell deeper into the cave system, and I had a rather unpleasant encounter with a strange creature there.” Bilbo shuddered. “I found your gear relatively easily at least, even though it took me some time to find you.”

“You came back,” Thorin whispered in disbelief.

Bilbo nodded hesitantly at Thorin.

“I am most grateful for your help, but you were free of the goblins. Why did you come back for us? You could have been killed trying to save us. Why did you not take your chance to return home as you have longed to do?” Thorin asked curiously.

Bilbo offered a weary smile. “Because I could never live with myself if I did. It would be cowardly, and I’ve come to think of you as friends. I may not seem as courageous as you Dwarves, and I may not have much experience with fighting, but I couldn’t fathom the idea of leaving you all to rot indefinitely in a goblin prison while I returned to my idle lifestyle at Bag End,” Bilbo declared.

 _Courage truly does come from unlikely places_ , Thorin mused.

“Thank you, Bilbo,” Thorin said, truly meaning it. “I…I have treated you horribly this whole journey. I am deeply sorry for that, and I understand if you cannot forgive me.”

Bilbo appeared more at ease after Thorin’s words. “Thank you, Thorin. Let’s look to the future, shall we? And that starts with me cutting off the bindings those goblins tied on all of you.”

Wielding his Elven dagger, Bilbo went around to every Dwarf to remove the rope around their hands. The Dwarves flexed their stiff hands in relief at being able to move them again. Thorin immediately lifted Alaisia into his lap. First, he checked her pulse, and noted that it was present but faint. He then checked her arms and legs for any sign of fracture and thankfully found none. Thorin grimaced at the wound on Alaisia’s leg and hoped that it would not become infected. Needing something to bind it with to stop the blood flow, he ripped off a strip of fabric from the base of his regal blue tunic and wrapped it snugly around the cut on his wife’s leg.

“Will she be all right?” Bilbo asked nervously as he gestured at Alaisia.

“If we can get her out of here, I believe so,” Thorin murmured worriedly.

“If only I had my smelling salts, I could revive the poor lass straightaway,” Oin muttered as he tried to get Alaisia to open her eyes. “Otherwise, I don’t know when she’ll wake up.”

Thorin nodded decisively. “We must find a way out of these accursed tunnels, but we must also retrieve our weapons. Orcs might be waiting for us when we emerge.”

“We have to be ready for a fight,” Fili added, his eyes determined.

“Let’s get on with it, then,” Dwalin huffed out impatiently. He clambered out of the holding area and appeared ready to charge down one of the tunnels.

“Careful, Dwalin!” Bilbo hissed. “There are steep drops here and loads of goblins. My blade will warn us if any goblins are in our immediate vicinity, but we don’t want to draw their attention.”

Dwalin grumbled a bit but agreed to slow down and to try to be a bit stealthier. Thorin kissed Alaisia’s cheek and hoisted her over his shoulder to carry her. Bilbo led the way through the tunnels to where he had seen the Company’s weapons. The group saw a few scattered goblins on their way, but they were small and easily grappled by Dwalin or stabbed by Bilbo. At last, they came to a decaying door that led to foul-smelling room, and therein they saw all of their gear deposited on a stone table. The Dwarves eagerly rushed in to arm themselves; Thorin grabbed Alaisia’s weapons in addition to his own, planning on safeguarding them until she could wield them again herself.

Thorin found it suspicious that the room wasn’t being guarded, particularly after Alaisia’s escape attempt, but goblins were not the brightest lot. Perhaps their attention was elsewhere at the moment. Even so, surely the goblins would notice the escape of their prisoners soon. That meant the Dwarves and Bilbo had precious little time to get out of there.

“Thorin!” Oin called out. “I found my bag of healing supplies, including those smelling salts I mentioned. Quick, lower Alaisia for me.”

Oin gently supported Alaisia’s head and held the smelling salts under her nose. Nothing happened. He tried waving the salts around a bit, moving them closer to and further from Alaisia’s nose, yet she still gave no sign of stirring.

Thorin’s pulse quickened in concern.

“I don’t know what else to try for now, lad,” Oin murmured sadly as he looked helplessly at Alaisia. “I’m sorry that I can’t be of more help.”

Thorin sighed. “It is not your fault, Oin. We may just have to get her to a safe place where she can rest for a while.”

“Ah…About that,” Bilbo started nervously. “We may have company soon.” Bilbo held his sword up, and Thorin saw that it was glowing a faint blue.

“Could your sword be glowing because they are beneath us or above us in the caves, Bilbo?” Ori asked.

“Maybe? I don’t fully understand how it works yet myself. I just know that it glows blue when Orcs or goblins are close,” Bilbo answered, his eyes darting around anxiously.

Thorin swore under his breath and scanned the room for another exit aside from the door they entered through, but there was no other way out.

“Make for the door!” Thorin ordered. “Quickly!”

The Company surged toward the door, but it snapped shut before they could pass through it. They heard the shrill cackles of goblins on the other side, and suddenly a trap door flew open in the ground beneath them. Once again, they found themselves falling, though thankfully it was a much shorter and less painful fall than last time.

Before Thorin could really get a sense of his surroundings, there was a _creaking_ noise, and he realized that he and the others had been dumped into a series of mining carts that were now rolling forward. The ceiling was too low for any of the Dwarves or Bilbo to climb out of the carts, so they were all trapped until things opened up more. A bright light appeared up ahead, causing Thorin to hope for a moment that perhaps this tunnel led to the outside.

He was wrong.

When the carts exited the tunnel, the members of the Company found themselves in a large, open cavern lit with thousands of torches. Shadows of goblins danced along the walls, and a menagerie of clumsily crafted walkways surrounded the cavern on all sides. In front of Bilbo and the Dwarves, a large force of goblins was gathered. The wretched creatures were guarding an imposing, beastly being ensconced on a hideous throne. He appeared to be a leader of sorts, perhaps a king if such a thing even existed among goblins.

Cautiously, Thorin and his companions eased themselves out of the carts. Dwalin helped Thorin retrieve Alaisia, for she was still out cold.

“I…I did not expect this to happen,” Bilbo said, looking nervously between the horde of goblins and Thorin. “I didn’t go all the way into that room before. If I’d known there was a trap, I would have searched for another way to get your weapons back.”

“You could not have known, Bilbo. I do not blame you,” Thorin answered, dismissing the Hobbit’s concerns. Truthfully, they _all_ should have been warier.

What Thorin was more concerned about now was how to get out of this situation alive. Fighting seemed like folly considering the vast numbers of armed goblins lurking about. But what else could they do?

It was Balin who spoke first with an idea. “Perhaps we can strike a deal with their erm…leader over there,” he suggested, ever the diplomat. “He doesn’t look like the brightest fellow. Maybe we can bribe him with some gold.”

“Forget bargaining!” Dwalin growled. “Let me fight them, Thorin. I have a bone or two to pick with them.”

Thorin shook his head. “No, Dwalin, we cannot fight them. We are too few in number. Balin is right—we should try to negotiate with them. If that fails, be ready to try to fight our way out.”

Dwalin grumbled, clearly dissatisfied with Thorin’s answer, but he removed his hands from his axes all the same. Thorin reluctantly passed Alaisia to Dori to carry; he was hesitant to let her out of his arms for even a moment, but he knew that he would need his hands free to fight if his attempt at negotiating failed. The group set out toward the ramshackle walkway that led to the platform with the goblins’ leader.

Surprisingly, the goblins permitted them to pass, though they kept their weapons drawn and jabbered what Thorin could only assume were insults. As the Company progressed, goblins skittered into line behind them and crawled up alongside them from concealed platforms below, surrounding the Company and blocking their retreat.

Still, the goblins did not attack Thorin or his fellow travelers. Instead, they acted as if they were herding Thorin’s party; as if they _wanted_ Thorin and the others to approach their leader.

It took all of Thorin’s willpower to not to vomit when he drew nearer to the throne. A horrid stench of decay wafted from it, though whether the stench was more from the massive goblin or from the crushed corpses of smaller goblins serving as an organic footrest Thorin could not say.

Before Thorin could speak, goblins swarmed him and yanked away his weapons. Thorin tried to grab one of his swords to fend them off, but too many goblins launched themselves at him too quickly for him to effectively respond. From the _clattering_ sound of metal hitting wood, Thorin could only assume the same was happening to his companions.

He tried to look back to check that everyone was unharmed, but a sudden impact to his back caused him to stagger forward, closer to the throne. The deformed goblin _harrumphed_ and rose, squishing the goblins beneath his feet even more as he stepped onto the platform. Under the weight of the towering goblin’s feet, the platform creaked so mightily that Thorin worried it might crumble into the depths of the cavern.

“It was foolish of you and your companions to enter my kingdom, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” the goblin admonished him.

Thorin blinked rapidly, startled at hearing not only his name but also the names of his forebears coming from the mouth of a goblin he had heretofore never met.

“Who are you?” Thorin asked suspiciously as he looked up at the deformed goblin glaring down at him. “How do you know who I am?”

The goblin cackled. “Why, I am the Goblin King, and you are trespassing in my kingdom,” he declared ominously, slamming his crude scepter down on the ground for emphasis.

Appealing to this grotesque “king”, as he called himself, went against every instinct in Thorin’s body. It took every ounce of willpower Thorin possessed to plaster what he hoped was an apologetic expression on his face.

“Forgive my companions and I for trespassing. It was not our intent—we were merely seeking shelter from a storm. Perhaps we can come to an agreement, from one king to another. I can pay you in gold if you agree to let us go with our weapons. I promise that we shall never come near your kingdom again.”

The Goblin King laughed cruelly, his chin swinging as he did so. “Ah, so you think that lording over some peasants among renovated ruins in the West makes you a proper king? You are a joke, Master Dwarf. Your true kingdom belongs to a dragon last I heard. It would seem to me that Smaug is the King Under the Mountain currently, not you, _Oakenshield_ ,” he declared.

“How dare you?” Thorin growled menacingly, his blood boiling at the insult. He took a half-step forward, but goblins at his side kicked out his legs, sending Thorin reeling to the ground.

Balin had not yet given up on negotiations despite the thick tension that now permeated the room. “Please, your excellency, be that as it may, we can pay quite handsomely if you would be so kind as to set us free.”

Although Thorin knew that Balin was simply doing his best to help the Company, his cousin’s sycophantic words toward the wretched goblin ruler made bitter bile rise in the back of Thorin’s throat.

“No amount of gold you can offer will appease me or surpass the pretty price I’ve been promised for Oakenshield’s head. Indeed, I’ve been promised an even heftier sum if I deliver him alive.”

Though Thorin felt he knew the answer, he still wished to have it confirmed.

“Who exactly do you intend to deliver me to?” Thorin spat out.

“An old enemy of yours in search of revenge,” the Goblin King sneered. “You might remember him—an Orc by the name of Bolg. I do believe that he wants to kill you himself, ideally painfully and slowly.”

 _And we simply fell into your trap_ , Thorin groaned internally. They had all been so desperate for shelter and rest that they stumbled into the first cave they saw. True, there was no way any of them could have known what would befall them, but Thorin still wished they had exercised more caution. Now, it seemed there was no other choice.

They must fight.

Thorin made the first move, rising to his feet and punching the goblin that tried to shove him back down. He delivered a kick with his armored boot to the other goblin flanking him and dove toward the pile of weapons on the ground. Swiftly, Thorin gathered his weapons and helped to keep a path clear for his companions to retrieve their weapons as they overcame their goblin captors.

The Goblin King howled indignantly as his underlings were slaughtered by the Dwarves, though it seemed a never-ending stream of goblins surged forth to replace those that fell in battle. Try as he could, Thorin could not reach the Goblin King, for the wretched creature was surrounded by a living wall of his minions.

Grunting, Thorin slammed his shield into the head of a goblin, disorienting it and giving him the chance to disembowel it with Orcrist. Around him, he heard his fellow Dwarves shout out war cries as they beheaded, dismembered, and otherwise slew goblin after goblin. For a brief, glorious moment of time, it seemed as if the Company might break free.

They underestimated the strength of the goblins, though, for another wave of goblin warriors swarmed up from unseen depths in the ravine below the platform the Company was stationed on. Goblins skittered like spiders up from below, down from the cavernous reaches of the ceiling, and from tunnels lining the walls of the cave. Their feral cries sounded shrilly in Thorin’s ears as they drew ever closer. Thorin braced himself for the onslaught of his foes.

When the goblins reached the Dwarves and Bilbo, the force of their impact caused the platform to wobble uncertainly. Thorin blindly stabbed at the faceless mass of goblin-scum, unable to see, smell, or hear much else due to the sheer number of goblins. He felt as if he was being buried under them, and soon it became all he could do to simply _breathe_ through the cluster of bodies. Thorin could not turn anymore to see Alaisia, Fili, Kili, or any of the others.

He hoped to Mahal they were somehow safe and unharmed in this madness.

A crude, shrill horn warbled out over the battle then, and Thorin groaned at the sound as he thought it signaled the approach of still more goblins. Instead, the goblins backed off somewhat, though enough remained to restrict his movement.

“Bring him to me!” a voice boomed out, and Thorin recognized it belatedly as that of the Goblin King. He found himself being kicked and shoved roughly to the ground, once again deprived of his weapons. Several goblins dragged Thorin across the rough, splintery wood platform to the ruling goblin. 

A hushed silence fell as the goblins, Dwarves, and lone Hobbit all looked toward the base of the throne Thorin was dragged to.

“Hmm, I had hoped to earn more by sending you off to Bolg _alive_ , but you are feistier than I anticipated. Keeping you alive is far too much trouble, I think.”

With a lazy jerk of his head, the Goblin King gave the order for Thorin to be executed. Thorin gritted his teeth and tried to fight off the goblins around him, but there were simply too many. Behind him, he heard the anguished cries of Fili and Kili, the growl of rage from Dwalin, and Balin’s muffled shout. None of his friends could reach him, and Alaisia was still unconscious, presumably.

 _I should have spoken to her sooner,_ Thorin thought sadly as he watched the tip of a goblin’s sword fall closer to the nape of his neck, _I should never have shut her out in the first place._ His mind drifted to his children, Eiraisia and Thornar, and he wished that he could see them, hold them, tell them how very much he loved them one last time.

Just as the sword was about to plunge into Thorin’s neck, though, a blinding white light burst through the chamber. A powerful shockwave accompanied it, though it only seemed to impact the goblins as they were cast aside by the unseen force. Thorin leapt up while the goblins were all still stunned, and a broad smile crept over his face when he saw the Company’s savior.

Gandalf the Grey had returned.

“You all got into far more trouble than I would have liked while I was away!” Gandalf chided warmly. “There is but one way out: take up arms and fight. Fight!” The wizard ordered, raising his staff high.

The goblins chattered uneasily at one another, looking warily between Gandalf and their overlord. Some fled at the sight of the powerful wizard.

“Do I have to do everything myself? Fight, you miscreants!” The Goblin King shouted at his warriors. He drop-kicked one into the fray for emphasis, causing the poor fellow to land at Dwalin’s feet, and wobbled back onto his throne with a huff.

Although the members of the Company had tried to fight their way out previously to no avail, Thorin felt that things would go differently with Gandalf present. Gandalf’s timely appearance renewed the group’s vigor while diminishing the confidence of the goblins.

With everyone fighting, though, no one was watching over Alaisia. Thorin waded through the dense array of Dwarves and goblins searching for Alaisia, hoping that she hadn’t been trampled in the chaos unfolding. He found her sprawled on the ground, still not awake.

 _Surely Gandalf can do something to help her recover enough to escape this place,_ Thorin thought.

“Gandalf!” He shouted loudly, hoping his voice would rise above the chorus of goblins jabbering and metal clashing. “I need your help—Alaisia’s unconscious.”

Gandalf heard Thorin’s call for help and rushed over, knocking goblins out of his way with his staff and running them through with Glamdring when the staff proved insufficient.

“What happened?” Gandalf asked sharply, his bushy eyebrows pinched together in concern.

Thorin grimaced and tenderly cupped Alaisia’s cheek. “I think she lost consciousness when we first fell—all of us did—but she woke up and managed to escape, according to what I overheard from the goblins. Alaisia was trying to find a way to help us, but the goblins found her first and knocked her out again. She also has a cut on her leg.”

Thorin looked up at Gandalf expectantly, his eyes brimming with tears yet to fall. “Please, Gandalf, can you help her? I’ve been so worried…” His voice trailed off when Gandalf put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Of course I can help her,” Gandalf kindly reassured Thorin. Gandalf closed his eyes then, concentrating deeply as he lowered his hand to Alaisia’s head. He chanted a few words that Thorin thought were Elvish, but Gandalf muttered them so quietly that Thorin couldn’t be sure. Then, Gandalf gingerly untied the makeshift wrap around the wound on Alaisia’s leg and pulled a small vial out of his belongings. The mysterious liquid that came out of the vial sizzled briefly when it made contact with the injured flesh on Alaisia’s leg, and the bleeding abruptly ceased.

“The potion I poured on her injury ought to speed the healing process, and it does not seem that she has lost a dangerous amount of blood. She’ll be able to run once she wakes up, though it will be painful until the wound on her leg heals,” Gandalf explained before he swiftly rose and rejoined the fight.

“Thank you!” Thorin called after Gandalf.

He knelt at Alaisia’s side and peered down intently at her as her eyes began to flutter open. Relief surged through Thorin, and he hurriedly gathered Alaisia into his arms and held her as close as he could, being careful to not squeeze too hard in case she was still sore from earlier. Part of him was afraid she might protest, given the last heated words she had said to him.

Instead, Alaisia melted sweetly into him, letting out an exhale of relief.

“I am so, so sorry my sweet wife,” Thorin murmured into Alaisia’s hair. “You were right about what you said earlier—all of it. I love you,” Thorin earnestly declared.

“I love you too, Thorin,” Alaisia whispered, her voice croaky and hoarse. Reluctantly, she drew back and looked around, her eyes widening in alarm as she came back to her senses more and realized that she and Thorin were sitting in the middle of a fight.

“How in Mahal’s name did we get here?” She asked, utterly befuddled.

Thorin huffed out a laugh. “’Tis a long tale, my love. Bilbo managed to rescue us, but we fell into another trap. Thankfully Gandalf is here now to help us. I promise that I will explain everything to you, including what made me brood so extensively, but for now we must focus on escaping this place.”

Alaisia nodded decisively, but her steely resolve faltered when she stood and grimaced in pain at the motion.

“I feel weak for being so sore, but the goblins beat me until I passed out again,” Alaisia muttered.

Thorin placed a hand under Alaisia’s chin and tilted her face up to look at him. “You are _not_ weak. Never say that you are,” he earnestly told her.

“Thank you, Thorin,” Alaisia replied softly.

“You’ll need these,” Thorin said as he returned Alaisia’s weapons to her. “Stay close to me—if you are in too much pain, I can protect you, sweetheart.”

With that, the King and Queen turned to face the goblins together. A goblin tried to attack the pair from behind, but Dwalin plowed his axe into the goblin’s back. Thorin used his shield to bash some foes out of the way while stabbing others with Orcrist, while at his side Alaisia slashed out with her blade, Dauntless. She was clearly in pain, and her movements were much shakier than usual, but she was still able to fight effectively enough.

 _We have to find a way through_ , Thorin thought desperately, knowing that even with Gandalf they couldn’t linger on this platform battling goblin after goblin indefinitely. Thorin scanned his surroundings, trying to work out a plan, and noted two things. First, there was a walkway that presented a viable escape route, though it was not free of goblins. Second, and perhaps more importantly, the Goblin King was now left relatively defenseless. His underlings were either already engaged in combat or too frightened of the possibility of being kicked into battle.

 _Perhaps if I cut the head off of the snake, his minions will scatter_ , Thorin realized. Goblins were not very intelligent creatures by and large. It seemed unlikely that their drive to capture or slay the Dwarves would persist if no leader remained to direct them.

“Alaisia,” Thorin whispered, “Can you cover me?”

Alaisia grunted as she slammed her sword into the gut of a goblin that foolishly tried to approach Thorin.

“Aye, I can cover you,” she answered, her sword held out as a warning to any other foes that might consider approaching.

Thorin grinned. “Excellent. Be ready to make for that walkway on my signal,” he directed.

Then, Thorin stowed his shield, opting to wield Orcrist in one hand and Deathless in the other. He charged toward the Goblin King, throwing any pretense at stealth to the wind for it was pointless here.

“What do you think you are doing, Dwarf-rat? Guards, come quick!” The Goblin King roared as he saw the Dwarf King come charging at him.

A few guards attempted to reach their ruler, but Alaisia made short work of them, buying Thorin just enough time to reach his quarry. The Goblin King gulped nervously as he stood before Thorin, bereft of any weapon other than his scepter. The goblin’s beady eyes narrowed as he swung his scepter down to meet Orcrist, but he failed to account for the fact that Thorin had a second blade. Thorin thrust upward with Deathless, driving it into the sickly, meaty flesh of the Goblin King’s arm and causing the creature to howl in pain. The scepter clattered to the ground unceremoniously.

“Order your goblins to permit us to leave!” Thorin commanded, Deathless and Orcrist now grazing the gut of the Goblin King.

“Never! Guards, seize them!”

 _So be it_ , Thorin thought solemnly. He lunged forward, plunging both of his blades deep into the gut of his foe. The Goblin King collapsed to the ground with a mighty crash, blood gushing out of his belly, and Thorin slit his throat to finish the job.

A stunned silence descended upon the cavern. All of the goblin underlings fighting Thorin and his companions halted momentarily, frozen with shock at the death of their ruler. Thorin motioned urgently for the Company to follow him, and the group hastily fled down the walkway. However, something stirred in the goblins upon seeing the prisoners who slew their king flee, and harsh, guttural cries echoed throughout the chamber.

Thorin hissed out a curse in Khuzdul as goblins gave chase to the Company with renewed vigor. His plan had motivated, not demoralized, the goblins. Gandalf, Bilbo, and the Dwarves fought somewhat haphazardly as they ran, only killing goblins that blocked their escape route and prioritizing speed above all else. Alaisia’s face was pale and tense with pain as she ran, and Thorin noticed that Alaisia was favoring her uninjured leg.

“Alaisia! Will you be able to keep running?” Thorin called out, concerned for his wife. “I can carry you if you are in too much pain, love.”

Alaisia shook her head stubbornly. “It hurts, but I refuse to slow down the group. I will run until we are free of this place.”

 _Stubborn as always, but I suppose that makes two of us,_ Thorin thought fondly as he ran alongside his wife. Though he knew she did not need his protection, he still wanted to be with her.

Up ahead, the path was absolutely riddled with goblins. Dwalin spotted a large beam on the ground and grabbed it, gesturing for the others to help lift it, and together they used it as a makeshift battering ram to knock goblins off into the ravine below. The Company came to a flimsy suspension bridge, though it was more of a series of wood scraps precariously held together than a proper bridge. The bridge groaned and sagged from the weight of fourteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a wizard in addition to all of the goblins trying to cross it. As soon as the group was across, Gandalf cut the rope holding the bridge up on their side, causing the bridge and the goblins clinging to it to plummet.

Gandalf took the lead after that, guiding the Dwarves and Bilbo through tunnels, across more rickety walkways crafted from flimsy planks, and down steep slopes in the cave system. On one incline, a horde of goblins attempted to charge up toward the group, but Gandalf muttered an incantation and thrust his staff upward at the ceiling. His efforts dislodged a boulder that rolled ahead of the Company, flattening some goblins and sending others running in fear.

With the path ahead clear for the time being, Gandalf motioned for everyone else in the group to run ahead of him. Once everyone had passed him, Gandalf closed his eyes in focus and sent a shockwave out using his staff. The cavern wall and ceiling behind the Company collapsed, blocking any goblins from following them from behind.

“This way! Fly!” Gandalf ordered them, winding his way through the tunnels.

Bilbo and the Dwarves followed eagerly, for none wished to encounter additional goblins. By the time the faint glow of dusk appeared up ahead, all members of the Company save Gandalf were utterly exhausted. They wearily stumbled out of the tunnel and found themselves in a sparse forest on the side of the mountain. Thorin never thought he would be as happy to see trees and grass as he was in that moment.

“We made it,” Alaisia breathed out shakily as she limped over to Thorin.

Thorin caught her easily and nestled her into his chest. “That we did, my heart. I am glad to be rid of that place,” he murmured softly as he pressed a kiss to Alaisia’s head.

“Auntie! Uncle!” Kili shouted as he and Fili came running over to embrace Alaisia and Thorin.

“Careful, boys, she’s still hurt,” Thorin warned his nephews.

“We’ll be careful, Uncle,” Fili reassured Thorin as he and Kili joined in a gentle group hug.

Thorin breathed slowly and closed his eyes lightly, allowing himself to enjoy a few precious moments of peace with his family as birds sang cheerily in the trees. It was the first time he had felt content since Rivendell. After some time, Thorin opened his eyes, and he saw Bilbo looking over at him.

 _Bilbo. We have him to thank in part for our safety,_ Thorin noted. _I must speak with him._

Reluctantly, Thorin disengaged himself from the group hug and left Alaisia to Fee and Kee. Thorin walked over to Bilbo’s side.

“Thank you for your part in rescuing us, Bilbo. Without your help, we might still be tied up in those caves,” Thorin warmly acknowledged.

Bilbo beamed at the praise. “Any decent fellow would’ve done the same,” he shrugged.

Thorin nodded, a question forming in his mind. “Will you go back home now that we are all safe?” Thorin asked, regret creeping into his tone.

Gandalf was right about the Hobbit after all—the little fellow was brave, stealthy, and a more than worthy addition to the Company. It had simply taken too long to see it. _Damn my stubbornness,_ Thorin thought as he reflected upon all of the times he belittled the poor Halfling. _Now that we owe our lives to Bilbo, now that I_ finally _see why Gandalf insisted so fervently on the Hobbit coming along, Bilbo is likely to depart for home._

The other Dwarves gathered around to listen to Bilbo’s response. Gandalf stood to the side, a knowing expression on his face as he watched the scene unfold.

“No, of course not!” Bilbo said as if he were stating an obvious fact. “There’s another reason why I came along to begin with. I couldn’t stop thinking about the song that you all sang about the destruction of your homeland before you set out. Thorin, Alaisia…you and your people lost so much. You lost your home. A dragon seized it and destroyed it.” Bilbo’s voice cracked. “It made me feel guilty in a way, the idea of sitting safe and secure in my own home. If there is anything, _anything_ at all that I can do to help you reclaim your homeland, I must try. I want you to have the same peace that I took for granted.”

Tears brimmed in Thorin’s eyes at the genuine kindness and selflessness shown by the Hobbit. He opened his mouth to speak, but a sinister sound startled him.

Wargs were howling and snarling not far from the Company.

Thorin’s gaze shot to the side of the mountain in alarm, and there he saw a group of Wargs with Orc riders amassing on the slope, coming ever closer to the woodland the Company was resting in.

“Out of the frying pan…” Thorin started, mentally cursing at the return of the foes that had chased his companions through the mountains.

“And into the fire,” Gandalf finished for Thorin. “Run!”

Thorin cast a grave look at Alaisia, then another look at Bilbo. The Hobbit looked scared, but also determined. He nodded at Thorin, holding his Elven dagger at the ready, and followed after the Dwarves and Gandalf as they all fled into the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was one of the most challenging ones to write for me. I hope that it turned out all right in the end! Up next, we'll have Out of the Frying Pan in which the Company is pursued by Bolg's hunters. I'll probably end the next chapter at Beorn's house (perhaps as the Company is getting ready to depart for Mirkwood). Any comments, questions, or suggestions are appreciated as always! I hope you're all staying safe out there during these stressful and strange times.


	15. Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company faces a pack of vicious Wargs and Orcs after escaping the clutches of the goblins. An old enemy returns to haunt Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, I planned to end this chapter at Beorn's house...but I got a bit carried away writing the confrontation between the Company and the Wargs, so it ended up making more sense to end the chapter earlier.

**Alaisia's POV**

Alaisia gasped urgently for air as she fled down the slope as fast as her legs could carry her. Her injured leg and aching body protested every step. She was exhausted; indeed, _everyone_ in the Company was exhausted, judging by the labored breaths and pants that filled the evening air. The only respite any of them had over the past day was the period during which they were unconscious after falling.

But they could not afford to stop running, even for a moment. The snarls of the Wargs and the thundering beat of their mighty paws on the forest floor drew ever closer. Alaisia did not dare to look back. Instead, she focused all of her meager energy on running forward and looking ahead for potential obstacles. It would only take one fallen branch, or one tree root out of place, for Alaisia to lose her balance and potentially fall prey to the Wargs.

“We cannot outrun them forever!” Bofur shouted, holding onto his hat to prevent it from falling as he ran. “There’s a cliff up ahead. Gandalf, what do we do?”

“You are quite right, Bofur,” Gandalf acknowledged as he cast an alarmed glance backward. “All of you, hearken to me! Climb a tree as high as you can. We shall try to outwit our foes from above.” 

Alaisia followed Thorin, Balin, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili to the base of a pine tree. It had thick branches all the way down its length, making it amenable to climbing. Alaisia waited until her fellow Dwarves were safely in the tree, not wishing to slow them down due to the pain in her leg, then she attempted to clamber up. Her leg spasmed painfully on her first try and nearly gave out on her.

“Give me your hand, Alaisia!” Thorin called down to her upon seeing her struggle. He reached down and grasped Alaisia’s hand in his own, digging his feet into the branch he was on to keep his balance as he pulled her up.

“Thank you, love,” Alaisia murmured.

“Of course,” Thorin responded, brushing a stray hair out of Alaisia’s face. “Try to keep climbing if you can—the higher up we are, the safer we are.”

As if to emphasize this point, a Warg lunged upward and snapped at Alaisia’s feet with its massive teeth. She shrunk back, pressing herself closer to the tree trunk, and slowly shimmied around to another branch. Alaisia gritted her teeth as she painstakingly pulled herself further up. Thorin followed suit, though he remained on a lower branch than Alaisia’s.

Alaisia looked down to scope out the situation. Thankfully, all of her companions, including Bilbo, were safely nestled in nearby trees. Wargs still circled the group down below, and it seemed that more joined their ranks by the second. There were easily several dozen Wargs prowling around. To make matters worse, most Wargs bore an Orc rider.

 _At least none of the Orcs appear to be archers,_ Alaisia gratefully noted. That gave the Company a precious advantage: so long as they lingered in the trees, the Orcs and Wargs were incapable of touching them. However, the Dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo could not remain ensconced in the trees forever. Alaisia’s fingers drifted to the quiver strapped to her back and brushed over the arrows within it. She cursed.

Five. That was the paltry number of arrows left in her quiver.

“Thorin, Kili—how many arrows do each of you have left? I’m down to five,” Alaisia called out.

“I only have eight,” Thorin answered grimly.

“I have two,” Kili shouted down at Thorin and Alaisia.

Fifteen arrows between the three of them was not enough to take down the army that had the Company trapped, but it would have to do. If they aimed well, they could at least take down fifteen of their foes. It was better than nothing. Alaisia contemplated briefly whether they should focus on the Orcs or on the Wargs, and ultimately settled on Wargs.

If they took this battle to the ground, Wargs would be much more difficult to kill with blades and axes than Orcs.

“We should try to slay as many Wargs as we can with the arrows we have,” Alaisia suggested.

“Good plan,” Thorin agreed. “Aim for their heads!”

All three Dwarves with bows made sure they had secure footing on their respective branches before they aimed at their targets and released their arrows. Their arrows soared through the air with a swift _whooshing_ sound, and all three arrows found their mark. Three Wargs fell, and a chorus of cheers arose from the rest of the Company. The Orcs wormed their way out from under their fallen mounts and angrily hissed at the Dwarves.

After the first three Wargs perished, the Orcs improved their strategy. They remained in constant motion, rendering themselves and their Wargs more difficult to strike cleanly, particularly with the added difficulty of aiming between branches lower on the pine tree. While the rest of the arrows shot by Thorin, Alaisia, and Kili all struck Wargs, not all strikes were killing blows. They managed to defeat eight additional Wargs and injure four others.

“Gandalf! Is there anything you can do?” Bilbo asked anxiously, seeing that the Dwarves had no more arrows.

“Yeah, can’t you just conjure up some more arrows?” Nori asked.

“I cannot conjure objects into existence, Master Dwarf!” Gandalf exclaimed. “There is something else that I can do to buy us some time, though.”

“Buy us time for what? These Orcs and Wargs aren’t going to simply run away!” Dwalin growled.

Gandalf ignored this question, focusing instead on a pinecone he held in his hands. He held his staff to it and stared at it intently. His lips moved, perhaps uttering an incantation, though Alaisia was too far away to hear what Gandalf muttered. Without warning, the pinecone suddenly illuminated with the glow of fire. The wizard chucked it down at a Warg that had just chewed off one of the lower branches of the tree, causing its fur to catch fire. It fled, frantically trying to douse the flames enveloping its fur.

Hastily, Gandalf made more flaming pinecone projectiles, tossing some down to Bilbo and the Dwarves in the same tree as him so that they could all lob their improvised weapons at the Wargs and Orcs. Wargs howled in pain and reared as they were bombarded, sending their Orcs flying to the ground with unceremonious _thuds_. Some of the pinecones hit the forest floor, and a small fire started to grow that spooked more Wargs.

 _Perhaps there is hope of victory after all,_ Alaisia thought as she watched the scene unfold, grateful for Gandalf’s ingenuity. Thorin looked up at her from a branch below and smiled, his eyes bright and hopeful from the sight of their foes fleeing. He appeared as if he was about to say something, but a sudden impact to the tree he and Alaisia were in startled both Dwarves.

Once again, the Orcs had adjusted their strategy. They had largely abandoned attacking Gandalf and Bilbo’s tree owing to the burning pinecones. Now, the Orcs were directing their Wargs to attack the other two trees the members of the Company were dispersed among. Wargs leapt up at the Dwarves, snapping away at branches and throwing their weight against the trunks of the trees. Alaisia’s tree quivered and swayed with the impact of so many Wargs striking it in quick succession, and with a massive _crack_ it began to tip over into another tree.

Alaisia managed to leap into the other tree, grunting as she weakly grasped a new branch. Her grip failed and she fell to a branch below. She clung to the trunk of the tree this time as she pulled herself up to stand; after all, she needed to be prepared to attempt another leap if this tree also fell. Once she was reasonably certain of her footing, she looked around hurriedly, searching for any sign of her family.

She exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing Balin and Dwalin above her, each holding onto a different branch. The branch next to her creaked, and Alaisia felt a familiar hand press against her back.

“Thorin!” Alaisia exclaimed in relief.

“I’m here, love,” Thorin reassured her as he shifted his hand to cup her cheek. Alaisia leaned into his touch as much as she could without risking a fall, and she scanned Thorin for any sign of injury. Thorin looked rather disheveled—his silver-streaked raven locks were coated in pine needles—but he seemed uninjured. Alaisia desperately wanted to embrace Thorin, and from the look on his face, he desired the same. But a misstep from either of them could send them both falling to the gnashing teeth of the Wargs below.

Alaisia also still did not see her nephews. “Have you seen Fee and Kee yet?” She asked Thorin, her voice tight with worry.

He shook his head somberly.

“Fili! Kili! Are you all right?” Alaisia cried out anxiously.

“Where are you?” Thorin shouted, scanning the ground below in case they had fallen off the tree entirely.

“We’re a bit bruised, but we’re fine!” Fili’s confident voice came up from somewhere below.

Alaisia breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she saw Fili and Kili clambering up the tree closer to her and Thorin’s position. Just as she was about to reach for Kili to try to help pull him up higher, the tree groaned and toppled over into a tree with more of the members of the Company. Alaisia lost her footing entirely, and her stomach lurched as she began to fall. She flailed around, trying and failing to get a grip on the new tree, until Dori grabbed her and hauled her up with Ori’s help.

“Thank you,” Alaisia whispered breathlessly as she looked at Ori and Dori.

“Of course, lass,” Dori replied, though he was somewhat distracted by trying to comfort Ori. Ori’s face was white with fear as he looked at the Orcs and Wargs below, throwing their weight against this tree.

Alaisia’s heart sank, both at the sight of the danger below and at Ori’s fear. Ori had never faced any substantial danger prior to joining this quest; he had lived a relatively sheltered life, looked after by Dori and Nori. Not for the first time Alaisia felt a twinge of regret that the innocent, cheerful Dwarf was being placed in harm’s way. 

She patted Ori’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Ori. We won’t let anything happen to you.”

He sniffled, then cried out in alarm as the Wargs renewed their assault. The Wargs tore off lower branches of the tree with their teeth and heaved their weight against the trunk, just as they had with the other trees. This tree was sturdier than the others, but even it could not withstand the impact of so many Wargs in such rapid order. With another fall, and hastily executed leaps, Alaisia and her fellow Dwarves found themselves in Gandalf’s tree.

“Those blasted Orcs and Wargs _herded_ us!” Bofur shouted indignantly.

“I’ll show them some herding,” Dwalin growled, hefting his two axes.

“Dwalin, no!” Gandalf barked. “We cannot engage them on the ground, unless you wish to perish. Stay in the tree! I have a plan—help may be on the way.”

“ _May_ be on the way?” Dori squeaked. “I should have hoped that you would be a bit more confident than that, Mister Gandalf!”

An exasperated sigh escaped Gandalf’s mouth. “I assure you, Dori, that I am doing the very best I can.”

Down below, the Orcs jeered up at the Company, and the Wargs snarled as they surrounded the base of the tree. Equally alarming, the fire sparked by the pinecones was spreading. So far, it was moving away from the Company, but it would only take a simple shift of the wind for it to change course.

“We should not throw any more of those pinecones, I reckon,” Balin solemnly suggested.

“Definitely not,” Thorin agreed. “If we throw more of those, the fire might reach us ere the Wargs do.”

A sudden growl, deeper and more menacing than that produced by the other Wargs, sounded from the forest. Its source sauntered into view—a white Warg, teeth bared and fur stiff with tension. Riding the Warg was a beastly Orc, easily over eight feet tall and strikingly pale. The Orc’s head was misshapen with metal strips filling the spaces where deep wounds might once have been. He was deformed, but the hulking monstrosity was still easily identifiable, even after all these years.

Bolg had come to claim his revenge.

Alaisia looked to Thorin with bated breath, anxious to see his reaction as Bolg urged his Warg closer. From her position, she could not see Thorin’s face, but the rigidity of his posture and tight clenching of his fists were telling.

Satisfied at the predicament Thorin and his Company found themselves in, Bolg smirked, revealing a hideous smile full of rotting teeth. He said something snide in Orcish and threw his head back as he cackled. Then, he began to speak in the Common Tongue.

“You are right to quake in fear, Dwarf-scum,” Bolg bit out as he gestured at the Dwarves. “Oakenshield!” He shouted, looking directly at Thorin. “Recognize this?”

The pale Orc tossed a ring up at Thorin, who instinctively caught it with outstretched hands.

“My…my father’s signet ring,” Thorin murmured, so quietly that Alaisia could barely hear him. Though he only spoke a few words, from the slight quaver in his voice and the brief shudder of his frame, Alaisia knew Thorin was shedding tears.

The sight of the signet ring, never removed by Thrain during life, confirmed something that Alaisia had long feared to be true.

Thrain was dead, most likely slain by Orcs either during the Battle of Azanulbizar or not long thereafter. All these years, all of the rumors, all of the desperate searches that Thorin had embarked on…all of it had been for naught. Thorin would never be reunited with his father.

 _Thrain did not deserve this,_ Alaisia thought, trying in vain to stifle the tears cascading down her face. _All he did, he did in the service of his people. He was an honorable Dwarf, and a wonderful father to Thorin, Dis, and Frerin._ Alaisia’s heart broke for Thorin, and she yearned to embrace him, but she could not reach him from her precarious position on the tree.

Unfortunately, the Company had more pressing matters to attend to than grief, for it seemed the death of Thrain was not sufficient to satisfy Bolg’s lust for vengeance.

“Oakenshield! My father, Azog the Defiler, is dead because of you, yet you have continued to draw breath all these years. No more. I will end you and your wretched companions here,” Bolg growled. He turned to the Wargs and Orcs gathered around him and raised his cruelly spiked mace high in the air. “Spill their blood!”

The Dwarves, particularly those who had been unceremoniously cast from one tree to another, shuffled nervously as they tried to secure their footing and brace themselves against the oncoming wave of Orcs. When the Wargs collided with the massive pine, the tree shuddered from the impact but held strong. Undeterred, the Wargs continued their relentless assault, throwing the weight of their bodies against the trunk incessantly until a resounding _crack_ signaled a break in the tree’s structural integrity. It began tipping backward, leaning perilously over the edge of the cliff, but its roots did not wholly sever from the ground. Instead, the tree landed on its side, with over half of it hanging off the cliff. Below, the ground was thousands of feet away.

A fall would mean certain death.

None had fallen yet, thankfully. All of the Company’s members were still clutching the tree, though most were struggling to hold onto branches as they dangled in the open air. Thorin ended up on top of the trunk not far from the edge of the cliff. He snarled angrily, his grief at having the death of his father confirmed momentarily yielding to sheer rage.

Thorin stared down Bolg, rising from his crouched position on the tree trunk. His shoulders shifted as if he were taking a deep breath to steady himself, and he drew Orcrist from its sheath. Orcrist reflected the orange glow of the fire spreading slowly among the trees, glinting menacingly as Thorin held it aloft.

 _No!_ Alaisia thought anxiously, scrabbling for better purchase to pull herself up. She was holding onto a branch close to where it met the trunk of the tree, but she just couldn’t seem to drag herself up onto the trunk. With a desperate surge of energy, she pushed on the branch in an attempt to lift herself, but it creaked and she feared it would not hold if she continued.

“Thorin! Please, you don’t have to do this,” Alaisia pleaded with him. “Gandalf said help is on the way. Don’t go face Bolg alone. Come back.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she dimly registered Kili, Fili, and others making similar pleas.

Thorin ignored the chorus of voices urging him to be cautious. He stepped forward, slowly at first as if he were testing whether the tree would shift with his movement, then he broke into a steady jog.

“Get back here you right fool!” Dwalin shouted at Thorin. “Live to fight another day, lad.”

Dwalin might as well have remained silent for all the heed Thorin paid his words. Thorin continued to run forward, Orcrist held high as he charged directly at Bolg and his white Warg. Bolg sneered and motioned for his comrades to back off.

He intended to face Thorin alone.

Alaisia groaned, still unable to pull herself up and unable to deter Thorin from his reckless behavior. _If only I could drag myself up, if only I could somehow distract the Orcs long enough to get Thorin back to relative safety_ …

But there was no time. Thorin had already reached Bolg. Thorin swung Orcrist back as he prepared to strike the leg of Bolg’s Warg, but Bolg was faster, for he had the advantage of observing Thorin’s approach. Ere Thorin’s blade could sink into the flesh of the white Warg, Bolg brought his mace into Thorin’s chest with a sickening _thud_.

“Thorin!” Alaisia screamed, her heart hammering violently in her chest at the sight of her husband being knocked back by the Orc’s blow.

Before Thorin could react, Bolg urged his Warg forward. The Warg lunged at Thorin, teeth bared, and grabbed him at his midsection. It shook Thorin roughly, bit down harder as it tried to chew through Thorin’s armor, and it flung him to the ground as if Thorin were little more than a hunk of meat.

Thorin did not move when he landed.

“NO!” Alaisia wailed as her stomach roiled at the sight of her husband being mauled. Her own cry of grief was joined by cries of despair and sorrow from other members of the Company, most audibly Fili and Kili.

 _No, no, NO! This cannot be happening. Please, Mahal, do not take my husband from me_. Her thoughts a panicked, jumbled mess, Alaisia made one final and frantic attempt to heave herself up onto the trunk. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do if she succeeded; she simply knew she needed to get to Thorin, to stand between him and the foe that so desperately wished to murder him.

Alaisia was almost up on the trunk when she heard a sudden _crack_ , and the branch that supported her gave way. Before she fell very far, a strong hand grabbed her.

“I’ve got you, lass!” Dwalin shouted as he dragged Alaisia up to his branch.

“Thank you, Dwalin,” Alaisia breathlessly said as she grabbed onto the branch Dwalin was on. It was sturdier than the one that had just failed her, but her instinct told her it still might not hold for long with two Dwarves putting tension on it.

She looked back at Thorin, still motionless on the ground, and felt tears begin to spill from her eyes.

“I can’t reach him, Dwalin. I can’t help him,” Alaisia managed to utter between sobs.

Dwalin lifted one hand from the branch to pat her back. “I know, Alaisia. Neither of us can,” he muttered, his usually strong and stoic voice breaking.

Until now, Bolg had been content to watch Thorin suffer on the ground. It seemed his patience had grown thin, though, for he was now slowly advancing on the Dwarf-king. A deep pit of dread opened in Alaisia’s stomach as she helplessly watched Bolg and his Warg creep toward her prone husband. Just as Bolg was about to reach Thorin, there was a blur of motion, and another figure joined the fray.

Bilbo Baggins had managed to get off the tree and onto the cliff.

The Hobbit stood firmly, his curly hair disheveled and covered in pine needles, as he brandished his Elven blade. He darted forward, placing himself between Thorin and Bolg.

“Leave him be! You’ve done quite enough harm already, Bolg!” Bilbo shouted fiercely.

Bolg released a grating, guttural laugh. “He is not yet dead. Who are you to stand in my path, halfling?”

Bilbo did not grace Bolg with an answer. Instead, he slashed his blade through the air as a warning. Alaisia watched, her feelings torn between immeasurable gratitude that Bilbo was risking his own life for Thorin’s, admiration at the little fellow’s bravery, and terror that Bilbo’s own life would soon be forfeit. At any rate, Bilbo’s actions did not sufficiently intimidate Bolg, so the pale Orc resumed his approach.

“If you insist on standing in my way, my Warg will dine on your flesh, Shire-rat,” Bolg sneered.

“Not if I kill your Warg first!” Bilbo shouted.

He darted forward, catching Bolg somewhat off-guard as he did not expect a little Hobbit to exhibit such reckless behavior. The white Warg snapped its teeth at Bilbo, barely missing Bilbo’s head as the Hobbit ducked in the nick of time. Bilbo swiftly stepped to the side and vanished into thin air. Moments later, the Warg howled in pain and a bloody gash appeared in its neck. As the Warg fell dead, Bilbo appeared once more, standing in front of Thorin to protect him.

 _How in the name of Mahal and the rest of the Valar did Bilbo manage that?_ Alaisia marveled.

“The lad will make a fine burglar after all,” Dwalin acknowledged, his voice tinged with awe at Bilbo’s feat.

It was not over yet, though. Bolg quickly stood, his face contorted in rage over the death of his beloved Warg mount, and he roared at Bilbo. Bilbo tried to haul Thorin further away, but the weight of the Dwarf-king was too much for him to bear. When Bolg started to stride toward Bilbo, Thorin lifted his head ever so slightly and reached out with a shaky arm. Unfortunately, the effort proved too much in his current condition, and Thorin’s arm fell limp to his side as his head collided with the ground.

Alaisia turned her head away, unable to bring herself to watch any longer. No one else could come to Bilbo’s aid as he had come to Thorin’s; everyone else was engaged in a struggle to avoid falling to their death. Gandalf was now supporting two Dwarves off of his staff, and even his hold was slipping.

 _Is this how it ends?_ Alaisia wondered, her breath quickening as her own grip grew weaker. Her hand was cramping from grasping the branch for so long, and she knew that her hold on the branch would soon fail. She thought of all that lay ahead—defeating Smaug, restoring Erebor and Dale, being reunited with her children—in an effort to maintain the willpower to hold on.

Not all hope was lost, though. Loud _caws_ in the sky above Alaisia startled her from her thoughts, nearly causing her to let go as she craned her neck up to investigate the source of the sound. When she looked up, she saw a group of gigantic eagles gracefully gliding through the air, circling the cliff where the Company was stranded.

“I did tell you all that help was coming, did I not?” Gandalf declared.

“By my beard! I’ve never seen a sight such as this,” Bofur said, gazing in awe as the eagles dove downward.

Some of the eagles grabbed Orcs in their imposing beaks or razor-sharp talons and tossed them off the side of the cliff, while others set course for the tree bearing the Dwarves and Gandalf.

“They will carry us to safety! Let go and leap onto the back of an eagle when one kindly presents itself to carry you or allow one to grab you with its talons. I promise that they shall not harm you, my good Dwarves. The only creatures these birds will harm here are the Orcs and Wargs.”

Alaisia looked back at the clearing and saw the Orcs retreating. Even Bolg was retreating, albeit reluctantly, having commandeered a Warg from some other hapless Orc who now had to run away on foot.

An eagle screeched up at her from below and tilted its head as if it were telling her to climb onto its back, so with a deep breath Alaisia jumped from the branch that she was on and landed on its broad, feathered back. Dwalin landed behind her with an _oof_ , and both Dwarves clung rather anxiously to the majestic bird’s feathers.

Being on the back of an eagle thousands of feet above ground was an incredible experience, but Alaisia found herself unable to fully appreciate it as she was still worried about Thorin. One eagle approached Bilbo, who protested feebly before being grabbed and deposited onto the back of another eagle. No one had retrieved Thorin as of yet, though.

Alaisia gently stroked the soft feathers of the eagle carrying her and Dwalin, hoping to get its attention. “Please, my husband—he’s wounded, possibly unconscious, on the forest floor. Can you grab him? I must get him to safety.”

The eagle cocked its head back at Alaisia in understanding and reached Thorin in a few beats of its broad wings. It picked up Thorin gently so as to avoid injuring him further and soared back into the sky, away from the burning pines and fleeing Orcs.

“Thorin!” Alaisia called out anxiously, worrying her lip between her teeth as she waited for a response.

Dwalin’s gruff voice joined her own, as did the worried voices of Fili, Kili, and Balin. Thorin remained silent throughout all of their calls.

“He’s unconscious,” Bilbo shouted, raising his voice so that it could be heard over the rushing wind. “Alive, but unconscious. He was bleeding when I reached him. I…I don’t know how badly he is hurt.”

Alaisia stiffened, a fresh wave of dread crashing over her. _Hang in there Thorin,_ she willed, _help has come, and we’re getting you to safety. You just need to hold on a bit longer._

She fervently hoped that it would actually be possible to heal Thorin when the Company landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say that I had fun writing BAMF Bilbo at the end of this chapter. Also, the poor Dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf really do deserve a bit of a break at this point. In the next chapter, they'll travel to Beorn's house. My goal is to get that chapter out within the next 2 weeks. I have a detailed outline for it, so hopefully that will help the writing go faster!


	16. The Skin-changer’s Refuge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their harrowing escape from Bolg's forces, the members of the Company meet a skin-changer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoy this chapter! There's a steamy Thorin/Alaisia scene at the end to make up for all the angst in recent chapters. This chapter is told from Alaisia's POV again, but we'll go back to Thorin's for the next chapter.

**Alaisia's POV**

Wind roared all around Alaisia as she sat astride an eagle. She nervously clung to its feathers, not out of fear for the vast distance separating her from the ground below, but out of worry for Thorin. It seemed that the Company had been airborne for hours now; indeed, the peachy glow of sunrise was beginning to fill the sky.

Yet Thorin had not so much as stirred, even in moments of turbulence. Thorin lay limply in the claws of the eagle that bore Alaisia and Dwalin, the only sign of life being the slight rise and fall of his chest that was so minute Alaisia was half-convinced she was merely imagining it.

A soft sigh escaped Alaisia’s parted lips. She had shed many tears earlier, but now her eyes were dry. Instead, she found herself filled with a desperate, aching sense of foreboding. The majestic sight of the verdant valley below the eagles, filled with rushing waterfalls and old-growth forest, did nothing to displace Alaisia’s sorrow.

“He’s survived dire injuries before, lass,” Dwalin observed. “And Thorin is as stubborn as an ox. He won’t give up on life so easily.”

 _Stubborn, yet also rash_ , Alaisia thought darkly. Her mind was a tangled mess at the moment. On the one hand, Alaisia was terrified that she would lose her husband, her King, the love of her life. However, she was also angry—no, she was _furious_ , furious that Thorin had taken such a great and unnecessary risk in challenging Bolg. Bolg needed to die, but Thorin’s decision to try to slay the pale Orc without any backup from the rest of the Company was reckless. It was through sheer luck that Bilbo found himself in a position from which he could run to Thorin’s aid.

Alaisia shuddered to think of the fate that might have befallen Thorin if Bilbo hadn’t been able to reach him.

In spite of her tumultuous emotions at the present moment, Alaisia knew that if she saw Thorin’s steely blue eyes open, she would feel nothing but relief. She loved him, even when he was stubborn and reckless.

 _Please, Mahal, give our children and I more time with Thorin_ , Alaisia prayed.

A stone monolith ascended steeply into the air up ahead, and the eagles began slowly circling it as they prepared to land. One by one, they carefully deposited the Dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo onto the stone platform. Judging from the massive nests that dotted it, the structure served as an eyrie for the great eagles, but the eagles took to the air once more as soon as they were free of their burdens.

Alaisia attempted to run to Thorin, but her legs were wobbly from the combined effects of her earlier injury and spending so many hours in the sky, making her approach rather clumsy. When she reached him, she fell to her knees in horror. A thin sheen of blood covered Thorin’s chest around several puncture wounds from the Warg’s teeth, and his armor was dented from the impact of Bolg’s mace. Thorin’s face was covered in scratches.

“Thorin!” Alaisia choked out. “My poor husband,” she murmured as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Alaisia grabbed Thorin’s hand and squeezed it in an attempt to elicit a response, but none was forthcoming. She shook his shoulders softly, reluctant to rattle him too much for she did not know how deep his injuries were. When that also failed, she broke down into tears once more.

“Please, Thorin, you _must_ wake up. I need you…the Company needs you,” she managed in a strangled whisper. Her heart pounded violently in her chest as sobs wracked her body. “I love you.”

Nothing but silence greeted Alaisia.

Fili and Kili watched with increasing anxiety as Thorin lingered unconscious. 

“Gandalf, Oin, please help him!” Kili cried out.

“Surely there must be _something_ you can do,” Fili added, his voice strained.

Gandalf nodded decisively. “I certainly hope so,” he muttered, his bushy eyebrows furrowed into a tight line. “All of you, stand back! I know that you are all quite worried about Thorin, but I need space if I am to assist him. Oin, I may need your help once he’s awake.”

With a final caress of Thorin’s forehead, Alaisia reluctantly withdrew and backed away several paces. She found herself standing next to Bilbo, who looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Forgive me, Alaisia. I tried…” he whispered sadly.

Alaisia offered him a weak smile as she wrapped an arm around the Hobbit, pulling him in for a hug. “You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Bilbo. You rushed to his aid when no one else was able to. Were it not for the bravery you showed in slaying that Warg, Thorin might have perished before the eagles arrived.”

Balin nodded. “Aye, lad, you have shown us the courage of Hobbits. We are truly fortunate to count you as a member of our fine Company.”

“Thank you, Balin,” Bilbo murmured gratefully.

Meanwhile, Gandalf crouched at Thorin’s side as he muttered a series of incantations in Elvish. His hand ghosted just over Thorin’s brow, and the wizard’s own face was creased in concentration. Gradually, the slow trickle of blood from Thorin’s wounds ceased.

“Cuivië!” Gandalf commanded, more loudly than he had uttered his previous words of healing. He rose and watched the Dwarf-king intently.

Suddenly Thorin breathed in deeply, his shoulders heaving upward with the motion, and his eyes fluttered open.

“Thorin! At last, you are awake!” Alaisia cried out joyously as she hastened toward her husband.

“Alaisia,” Thorin mumbled groggily, his voice tinged with relief. “We…we both made it out of there.” He sat up slowly and winced in pain at the movement.

Alaisia did not wish to disturb Thorin’s wounds or worsen his pain, but she longed to hold him, so she settled on embracing him delicately. Thorin rested his head on Alaisia’s shoulder, and his shaky hands splayed across Alaisia’s back. Seeing Thorin so weak and in so much pain brought fresh tears to Alaisia’s eyes. She nuzzled her chin against his raven hair, still matted from the preceding events, and tried to fight back her tears.

A drop of moisture landed on Thorin’s hair, though, and he lifted his head to see Alaisia’s red-rimmed eyes. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, slowly, savoring the moment. Alaisia pulled back after a moment and rested her forehead against Thorin’s, breathing quietly and willing her thundering heart to slow.

 _He is awake now at least, and he may be in pain now, but he will recover. I have not lost him_ , she thought. She surrendered to a feeling of relief that Thorin was still here, _breathing_ , warm in her arms and not lifeless on the ground. The tears abated, and when Alaisia opened her eyes again, she pulled her head back and smiled lovingly at Thorin.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Thorin’s lips, but it quickly faded into a frown.

“I…I was so reckless, so foolish,” he muttered. “I don’t know what got into my head. It was as if I wasn’t even in control. I was so angry in that moment that I couldn’t think of anything except ending Bolg.”

He shook his head, huffing in frustration.

“And in the end, I only succeeded in almost getting myself killed, all while you and the others looked on. I won’t repeat that stupidity, Alaisia, and I am sorry for putting you through that. The next time I face Bolg, it will be under different circumstances,” he vowed.

Internally, Alaisia breathed a sigh of relief that Thorin recognized his actions were foolhardy; that he had no intention of making a similar mistake in the future. She reached out a hand to push a wayward strand of hair behind Thorin’s ear and kissed him again.

“All that matters is that you are still with us, _kurdunuh_ ,” she murmured.

In spite of Alaisia’s words, Thorin’s face still appeared troubled. She looked at him questioningly, silently encouraging him to voice what was on his mind.

“My memories are admittedly hazy after the Warg seized me,” Thorin slowly began, “but they are starting to come back to me. I did not fully lose consciousness right away. There was something else…someone else…” Thorin’s voice trailed off as he rubbed his forehead, trying to recall what else had happened.

His eyes flew open. “The halfling! Where is he?”

Alaisia beamed. “Bilbo is right over there, sweetheart. He’s all right.”

Thorin rose to his feet, though his knees nearly buckled at first. Alaisia tried to support him but he shrugged her off and stumbled toward Bilbo, his boots falling heavily on the ground.

“You—what were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed!” Thorin shook his head angrily.

 _Surely the stubborn Dwarf is not about to criticize Bilbo for saving his bloody life!_ Alaisia thought in disbelief. Alaisia took a half-step toward Thorin, ready to intervene if necessary. Her fellow Dwarves also watched the scene with skeptical eyes.

Thorin was not yet done. He continued to stumble toward Bilbo, who shied away nervously. “Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would have no place amongst us?” His face broke into a broad grin. “I have never been more wrong in all my life.”

With that, he reached Bilbo and pulled the unsuspecting Hobbit in for a bear hug. Thorin winced but continued to embrace Bilbo.

“Thank you, Bilbo, for saving my life. I would not be here were it not for your selfless act.”

Bilbo’s concerned expression shifted first into a confused one at being suddenly yanked in for a bear hug by the grumpy Dwarf-king, then into a cheerful grin.

“There is no need to thank me, Thorin. You would’ve done the same for me, or for anyone else here. I could not stand by and watch Bolg and his Warg kill you knowing I was able to reach you.”

Thorin released Bilbo and stepped back. “Words cannot begin to address how sorry I am for how I treated you in the past. I was a stubborn, biased arse. Now I see what a fool I was. I am grateful that you have joined our Company, Bilbo Baggins, and I am honored to call you a friend.”

Bilbo beamed at Thorin’s words. “I am honored to be a part of this adventure,” he humbly replied.

Gandalf clapped his hands together, his eyes twinkling merrily at this turn of events. Around him, the rest of the Company joined in the applause and in voicing praise of Bilbo. The Hobbit laughed nervously and blushed at the praise.

When the commotion subsided, Fili and Kili walked over to their Uncle Thorin and hugged him.

“We’re both glad that you are all right, Uncle,” Fili said, his voice muffled by the fact that his face was buried against Thorin’s shoulder.

“I’m happy to see the two of you healthy, strong, and unharmed from that skirmish,” Thorin responded, ruffling the hair of each of his nephews affectionately.

Oin cleared his throat and waved his medicinal pouch in the air. “I hate to disturb the happy moment, but those injuries still need further treatment, Thorin.”

“Of course, Oin, thank you,” Thorin answered as he made his way over to the Company’s healer.

Alaisia helped Oin peel off Thorin’s layers of armor and clothing until Thorin’s chest was bare. She used a rag dampened with water from her canteen to gently clean the dried blood off of Thorin’s chest, her hands moving as lightly as possible to avoid causing further hurt to Thorin.

Once Thorin’s chest was clean, Oin surveyed the damage. Thankfully, Thorin’s armor had borne the brunt of the attack from Bolg and the white Warg, but he still had multiple puncture wounds on his chest and side. They were mainly shallow and treatable with an herbal salve Oin carried, but in places where Thorin’s armor left him more vulnerable, there were a couple of deeper lacerations that required stitches for proper healing.

“Lucky for you, lad, there is no sign of internal bleeding, nor do you have any broken bones. That nasty purple bruise on your chest will linger for some time though I warrant, and you will likely experience some measure of pain for at least the next two weeks,” Oin declared as he packed his supplies back up. “I’ll give you something that will help ease your discomfort, but it can’t be very strong because we need you coherent if we are to move on from this place.”

Thorin nodded, grimacing slightly as he lifted his arms to make it easier for Alaisia to clothe him again. 

“When will I be able to fight again, if the need arises?” Thorin asked.

Oin glanced sharply at Thorin. “Unless you want to open up those stitches and make the pain last longer, you should avoid fighting for the next week.”

Thorin growled in discontent at that.

“What if our enemy finds us before then?” Thorin demanded.

“Then you will stand by and let us take care of the fighting!” Oin declared, jabbing a finger at Thorin for emphasis. “Healer’s orders!”

Oin walked away then, grousing about Thorin’s stubbornness under his breath.

“He’s right, you know,” Alaisia tentatively suggested.

Thorin exhaled softly. “I know. It doesn’t mean I like it, but I know he is right. I hate feeling so useless.”

Alaisia placed a finger under Thorin’s chin, tilting his head to look at her. “You are not useless! Even if you cannot fight, you are still King. And it is only for one week. Between the eagles and the fire, the Orcs will surely need time to regroup ere they can challenge us once more.”

Thorin nodded solemnly, reluctantly. “I hope that you are right.”

 _I hope so too_ , Alaisia silently added. If circumstances were kind to the Company, they would have a brief respite from being hunted, but they had not had the best luck thus far.

“We should move on now. I am well enough to walk,” Thorin insisted, rising to his feet unsteadily at first. Alaisia steadfastly remained at his side and offered him her arm until he had his balance.

“How are we to get down from here?” Nori asked. He paced restlessly around, inspecting the various nests. “It seems we need wings to leave this place.”

“There are stairs leading down over there,” Gandalf explained, gesturing vaguely at one edge of the stone platform. “I’ve been here once or twice before,” he added with a wink.

“Wait!” Ori called out. “Look, over there in the distance! Is that what I think it is?”

The sun was higher in the sky now, and the light fog and clouds that graced the sky earlier had cleared. Now, in the distance, a solitary peak was visible beyond a vast forest.

Thorin walked over to Ori, limping slightly, and smiled. “Yes, Ori, it is. That is Erebor…our home.” His voice cracked with emotion, and Alaisia saw a few tears slip from Thorin’s eyes.

Erebor stood proudly in the distance, its peak dusted with snow. Here, the Dwarves were too far away to see evidence of the destruction caused by Smaug. The Lonely Mountain looked peaceful, just as it had in the days before Smaug’s attack.

 _Our future kingdom_ , Alaisia thought as she squeezed Thorin’s hand. He turned to her, and in Thorin’s eyes Alaisia saw a glimmer of hope. Next to Alaisia, Fili and Kili were looking at Erebor as well, their eyes wide with wonder as they looked upon the birthplace of their mother. The lads had never been to Erebor, but they grew up on stories of the mountain kingdom from Thorin and Dis. Alaisia’s heart swelled with warmth at the sight of Fili and Kili finally getting to see Erebor in person, even if it was from a vast distance.

“There’s a sight I once feared I might never see again,” Gloin wistfully acknowledged. The banker dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.

“A proper mountain, that is,” Bofur declared, holding his hat in his hands in reverence.

“I do believe the worst is behind us,” Bilbo added, inspired by the sight of the Company’s destination.

“I would not be too quick to make assumptions, Master Baggins,” Gandalf grimly declared. “Many dangers await you on the road ahead, some expected, others as yet unknown. We must move on now and put more distance between ourselves and the Misty Mountains ere dusk. Bolg shall not give up on pursuing us so easily.”

Heeding Gandalf’s words, the Company reluctantly turned away from the vista and followed the Grey Wizard to the path down from the eyrie. What the wizard referred to as “stairs” felt more like a jumbled series of stones and footholds leading down to the ground below. Thorin managed it, though not without difficulty due to his injuries.

Once everyone reached the base of the eyrie, they struck out eastward as they picked their way down through the densely wooded foothills of the Misty Mountains. Two days passed in relative peace with nary sight nor sound of foes. Alaisia supported Thorin initially as they walked, but his strength returned after the first day and he was able to press through his lingering discomfort and walk without limping. The King and Queen still often walked hand in hand, enjoying the quiet reassurance of each other’s presence. Bilbo kept watch during the day and often scouted ahead of the Company to ensure that no unpleasant surprises awaited them.

On the third day, though, Alaisia startled awake to the sound of howling.

She jolted upright in her bedroll and donned her cloak. Beside her, Thorin scanned the trees for any sign of Wargs.

“They are not here, but they are close. Would that they could have given us a few more days of peace—according to Oin, I am still not yet well enough to fight,” Thorin snarkily muttered.

“You can be as bitter about it as you want, Master Thorin, but I assure you it is for your own good!” Oin called out in a sharp whisper.

“Quiet, all of you!” Gandalf hissed. “Those beasts are undoubtedly searching for us. Let us not make their job any easier by making loud noises.”

His clothes and hair still rumpled from sleep, Bilbo approached Gandalf. “I’ll go on ahead and take a look. Wait here for me to report back. If you don’t see me within an hour, something may have gone wrong.”

The Hobbit started to walk off, but Gandalf grabbed his arm.

“Do not engage them if you see them, do you understand? There are many of them, and only one of you.”

Bilbo nodded his assent, his face determined. “Of course, Gandalf, I will be careful. They won’t see me.”

Gandalf gave Bilbo a curious look, as if he sensed the Hobbit were hiding something, but released him. Bilbo disappeared into the trees, leaving the Company to wait. Minutes passed with no sign of Bilbo’s return, and Dori began to pace restlessly.

“What if they got him? I haven’t heard a howl for a few minutes now…” Dori muttered worriedly.

“Oi! Quit pacing like a mother hen, Dori. You’ll wear a hole in the ground! Our burglar will be just fine,” Nori chided him.

“Aye, that Hobbit is tough as nails underneath his soft exterior. After seeing how he dealt with that Warg, I trust that he can handle himself,” Dwalin added in praise of Bilbo.

Not long after that exchange, Bilbo’s curly head reappeared through the trees. He ran as fast as he could while still keeping quiet, and when he reached the clearing where the Dwarves and Gandalf were, he paused to catch his breath.

“Did they see you?” Gandalf asked sharply, though Alaisia sensed that the sharpness in his voice was more from concern rather than a rebuke. “What happened?”

“No, no of course not!” Bilbo said, mildly offended that Gandalf thought he had been caught. “They’re not far from us. They have yet to catch our scent, which gives us some advantage I suppose, but we don’t have long. I think we have to flee.”

“Where do we go, though? There’s naught but wilderness between here and Mirkwood!” Bofur cried out.

Gandalf’s face twisted into a dissatisfied, uncertain expression. “There…there is a house not far from here, where we might take refuge.”

“Why do you sound so uncertain? Is the owner of this house a friend of yours or not?” Thorin barked out.

“Not exactly, but neither is he a foe,” Gandalf hedged.

Bifur grumbled in Khuzdul about Gandalf’s cryptic, evasive response.

“Are we in danger from this bloke or not?” Bombur bluntly asked, hefting his soup ladle in his hands.

“Potentially,” Gandalf answered. “He isn’t overly fond of Dwarves, to say the least. It depends on what…mood you catch him in, so to speak.”

A Warg’s howl, closer now than before, filled the silence that followed Gandalf’s words.

“It certainly does not sound ideal, but I fear we have no choice,” Alaisia somberly declared.

“Indeed. He will help us, or he will kill us. Run!” Gandalf ordered.

The Dwarves and Bilbo took off running after Gandalf at full speed. The pain in Alaisia’s leg had finally quelled to a dull ache, but while Thorin was well enough to run, his healing injuries precluded him from running as fast as he ordinarily would.

“I’m fine!” He called out to Alaisia upon seeing her worried expression. Alaisia nodded and remained at Thorin’s side as the two of them ran.

The group crossed over shallow streams and rocky hillsides until they reached a broad plain smothered with wildflowers at the base of the foothills.

“Surely you don’t mean for us to enter this open field!” Bofur exclaimed.

“Aye, they’re sure to spot us in this flower-infested grassland!” Dwalin angrily muttered.

“Do you have a better idea, Master Dwarf?” Gandalf snarked back. “Follow me!”

Gandalf charged out into the field, and the Dwarves and Bilbo reluctantly followed him, for they saw no alternative approach. A rustling sound at the edge of the trees heralded the approach of the Wargs, who burst through the tree line and began racing toward the now visible Dwarves. Alaisia glanced back and saw that Bolg was not among the riders of the Wargs, but the Orcs that were there looked menacing enough.

A sudden roar pierced the area, causing the Wargs to halt in their tracks. The Orcs, who looked so menacing moments before, shrunk back in their saddles as a second, louder roar rose up. They retreated to the trees, ending their pursuit of the Company for the moment.

“What _was_ that? It sounded unnaturally loud…” Ori nervously asked.

“Don’t stop running unless you care to find out!” Gandalf called back. “Our destination is ahead. Fly!”

Huffing and puffing, the Dwarves continued to sprint across the meadow. A humble hut stood in the distance surrounded by a dense, tangled hedge. Behind them, they heard another earth-shattering roar as another presence crashed through the trees and into the open.

On first glance, owing to the size of the beast, Alaisia thought that the creature that emerged was a horse. However, when she looked more closely, she saw that it wasn’t a horse at all. No, the beast that was running toward the Company on all fours was a bear—an abnormally massive one at that.

“We’re almost there! We cannot slow down now,” Gandalf urged his companions.

“Thank you for the warning about the gigantic bear in these parts, Gandalf! It was _so_ nice of you to tell us about that,” Nori sarcastically grumbled.

“There was no time, and no point in frightening you lot when time was of the essence,” Gandalf shot back. “Hurry!”

By now, most of the Dwarves were well and truly exhausted from charging ahead at full speed. Balin was wheezing, and a few others were starting to slow down. Bombur inexplicably got a second wind of energy and surged ahead of everyone save Gandalf, not looking back at the terrifying bear that hurtled toward the group.

A gate loomed in the menacing hedge up ahead, the door thankfully open, but the bear was gaining ground on the Company rapidly.

“Listen carefully! Leave this gate be when we pass through it and continue ahead to the house. The door there can be barricaded more effectively,” Gandalf explained.

With little time to spare, the Dwarves, Gandalf, and Bilbo managed to make it through the hedge gate just ahead of the bear. It was mere paces behind the group, so close that Alaisia could nearly feel its breath, but the door to the house was not far. Tunnel vision overtook Alaisia such that she was singularly focused on reaching the door, causing her to miss the tree root that jutted up from the ground in front of her. Her boot caught in it, sending her toppling to the ground with a mighty _thud_. She landed face first.

“Alaisia!” Thorin called back, his eyes wide with worry.

Alaisia rose to her knees and turned in time to see the bear approaching her. There was no time to react, either to run or to draw a weapon, before the bear reached her and knocked her onto the ground with a mighty paw. Its paw remained on her chest, effectively pinning the Dwarf-queen in place.

“Leave her be!” Thorin roared angrily.

“Thorin, no! Do not attack this bear. That goes for the rest of you—if you attack the bear now, things might not end well for Alaisia,” Gandalf warned. “Not to mention you are not supposed to be fighting yet, Thorin!”

“You expect me to stand aside as a bear mauls my wife? Think again, wizard,” Thorin growled.

Alaisia heard frustrated scuffling followed by silence, which she assumed was Gandalf (and possibly Oin) grappling Thorin to hold him back. _Good. At least he will be safe,_ she thought. She peered up at the bear that pinned her, curious as to why it hadn’t struck her with its claws or pierced her with its teeth. She expected the blow to come any minute, but it didn’t.

 _A most unusual bear_ , she mused. _It is as if it is trying to work out whether or not I am a threat_. Reasoning with a bear seemed absurd, but it was better than waiting around to become the bear’s lunch.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Alaisia begged. “I’m not a danger to you. My friends and I are running from Orcs and Wargs that want to kill us. We came here seeking shelter.” She looked the bear in the eyes, hoping that if her words made no sense, it could at least see she was no threat. The bear stared her down for a tense moment and huffed. Alaisia feared that her efforts had failed; that this bear was about to kill her.

But then the bear whimpered, lifted its paw, and ran off.

Her ploy had worked.

“Let _go_ of me!” Thorin groused at whoever was holding him back, and shortly thereafter he reached Alaisia. He pulled her in close, encasing her protectively in his muscular arms.

“Sweetheart, are you all right? Are you hurt?” Thorin asked urgently.

“A bit shaken, but otherwise I’m fine. There’s something strange about that bear though. I think…I think he understood me when I talked to him,” Alaisia muttered, confused by what just happened.

“You are quite right, Miss Alaisia. That bear is our host, Beorn. He is a skin-changer. As a bear, his temper can be volatile and unpredictable. Sometimes the beast gets the better of him. He presumably thought we were here to attack him. Your words convinced him otherwise,” Gandalf explained.

“So that is what you meant by Beorn’s ‘mood’ earlier—whether he is in human or bear form,” Alaisia realized.

“Why in Middle-earth would you bring us to the lair of a skin-changer?” Dori asked indignantly.

“I understand your distress, Dori, but there was nowhere else to go. It was Beorn that scared off our true foes, after all. Besides, Beorn is much more reasonable in his human form. He has a good heart. Now that he has run off to transform, I am certain that he will offer us lodgings upon his return. We would be wise to accept graciously.”

Thorin heaved out a sigh. “I suppose we have no other choice,” he conceded.

“Excellent! Now that we are all agreed and are no longer being chased, why don’t we head inside to wait for him?” Gandalf suggested cheerily.

“Are you quite certain he won’t mind finding fourteen Dwarves, a Hobbit, and a wizard in his home?” Balin questioned Gandalf.

“He and I are old acquaintances. Beorn isn’t overly fond of Dwarves, but I wager when he hears your story, he will be sympathetic,” Gandalf reassured Balin.

“If you say so,” Dwalin muttered skeptically.

Gandalf ushered everyone into Beorn’s home, though some Dwarves entered more reluctantly than others. Beorn’s residence had a distinctly rustic aesthetic inside with stone, rough-hewn timber of a warm wood tone, and woven wool accents. Carved decorations of animals and organic patterns in the columns and furniture showed Beorn’s skill as a craftsman. Everything was constructed to a massive scale, even by human standards. The table towered over the Dwarves and Bilbo, and some of the furniture appeared large even for Gandalf.

The apparently oversized furniture made sense when, following a tentative knock on the door, a giant of a man walked into the building. He wore a rough-spun wool tunic and simple cloth pants and in his hands, he carried a woodcutter’s axe that he promptly set down by the door. His dark, unkempt hair and wild eyebrows matched the color of the bear form he first appeared in earlier.

“Gandalf,” Beorn began, “to what do I owe the pleasure of your surprise visit? I suspect it has something to do with the foes that I frightened off.” He looked at the Dwarves and sighed resignedly. “I am sorry for my initial treatment of you all. I was tracking some troublesome Wargs and Orcs that were circling the area, and at first I thought you might be allied with them.”

Gandalf removed his hat in a gesture of respect and stepped forward. “It is good to see you again, Beorn. Thank you for welcoming us into your home.”

Beorn raised a skeptical eyebrow at Gandalf’s words, but remained silent.

“You are quite right that we are here seeking shelter from our enemies. We have had rather difficult traveling of late, and we are in need of respite and supplies ere we continue on our merry quest. I am of course happy to tell you the tale of how we came to be in this position, but I think that is a task better left to our fine Company’s leaders,” Gandalf explained as he gestured at Alaisia and Thorin.

Beorn hummed thoughtfully. “I must admit the promise of a good tale intrigues me, but first, I wish to know the names of those who would seek refuge under my care.”

Thorin stepped forward, still tense as if he were half-expecting Beorn to shapeshift into a bear again at any moment. “I am Thorin Oakenshield, King of Dvergatal in the Blue Mountains, and rightful King of Erebor.”

“And I am Alaisia Glavrem, Queen of Dvergatal alongside Thorin. I am originally from the fallen city of Dale.”

“A husband and wife team of adventurers!” Beorn exclaimed. “That is most unusual.”

“Aye,” Alaisia acknowledged, “but we have long fought together and traveled together, ever since Smaug’s attack on Erebor and Dale.”

Beorn’s expression turned grave at the mention of Smaug. “Too many lost their lives in the firestorm that the dragon brought. I am sorry for your loss.”

The skin-changer’s words softened Thorin somewhat, and his posture relaxed. “Thank you,” he acknowledged as he dipped his head in gratitude.

After that, the rest of the Dwarves introduced themselves, followed by Bilbo.

“Ah, I thought you might be one of the Shire-folk!” Beorn boomed upon hearing Bilbo’s introduction. “Long have I desired to meet a Hobbit. I admire the value your people place on tending the environment around them. Later you must tell me about your home.”

“Of course!” Bilbo responded eagerly, delighted that someone was interested in the goings-on of Hobbit life.

“Now, Thorin and Alaisia, tell me of the quest that Gandalf mentioned. Why are you being hunted?” Beorn asked, dragging out one of the oak chairs that surrounded his grand dining table.

Thorin, Alaisia, Balin, and Bilbo all took turns telling Beorn the tale of their journey thus far, with Gandalf occasionally interjecting to add clarity. Beorn was intrigued by the friendship that existed between these Dwarves and the Elves of Rivendell and impressed at the Dwarves’ exploits in Goblin-town, particularly their defeat of the Goblin King.

“The Goblin King plagued the Misty Mountains and unfortunate travelers with his schemes for far too long,” Beorn growled. “You have done a great service to the region in eliminating him.”

The shapeshifter’s expression fell grim at the news of Bolg’s mission to hunt down Thorin. Thorin bitterly explained the history between his family and Bolg, including the death of his brother and presumably father at Bolg’s hands. He told Beorn that the Warg-scouts he chased off were likely among those who fled the pine forest, and that they were almost certainly operating under Bolg’s orders.

“Hatred of the Orcs and of their beasts of burden is something that you and I share, Master Dwarf,” Beorn said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. He lifted the edge of his tunic, revealing a scar in the shape of a Warg’s bite. “The Orcs tortured and killed my family. Tormenting skin-changers was a sort of sport for them, you see. I managed to escape with my life, but not without a cost.” He sighed.

“That is horrible. I am sorry for your loss, Beorn,” Alaisia offered.

“Thank you,” Beorn answered, his voice laden with grief. “Where do you all plan to go next, and what is the purpose of your quest? I think I can guess, but I would like to have it confirmed.”

Alaisia and Thorin looked at each other for a moment, silently considering how direct they should be, and nodded.

“We are bound for Erebor. The time has come to reclaim our homeland, in no small part so that the Necromancer of Dol Guldur cannot seize it or ally himself with Smaug. To reach the Lonely Mountain, we plan to travel through Mirkwood, steering well clear of Dol Guldur,” Thorin revealed.

“I thought that was your purpose,” Beorn replied, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “I support your mission. You have the right to restore your home to its former splendor, to reclaim the heritage of your people, and slaying Smaug would be a boon to Rhovanion. However, I must advise you to reconsider your plan to travel through the Greenwood. That forest is ailing and filled with many dangers for you, including Thranduil’s folk. Under Thranduil’s leadership, his folk have grown increasingly isolated. The Wood-Elves may not take kindly to travelers through their forest, especially if they are Dwarves.”

A silence fell over the group at Beorn’s words, and Alaisia sighed. She shared Beorn’s concerns about Thranduil and despised the pointy-eared bastard. But years ago, Legolas had saved her life and befriended her in Rivendell. He accompanied the Elves that escorted the recovered Dwarf merchants back to Dunland. It was there that he made a promise to Alaisia that she still remembered to this day:

_“I know that you and your fellow Dwarves desire to slay Smaug and reclaim your homeland. When you decide to do so, I will offer you whatever aid I can. I have a personal stake in the battle, after all, and I feel compelled to do something to make amends for my father’s despicable behavior to your people.”_

It wasn’t a terribly specific promise—Legolas offered “whatever aid he could” provide—but it was earnestly meant. Perhaps he would hold to it; after all, in Alaisia’s experience, most Elves held true to their word, Thranduil being the most notable exception.

“I understand your concerns, Beorn, but Legolas is an old friend. He saved my life once when my companions and I were attacked outside of Rivendell. He voiced his support for a Dwarven effort to reclaim Erebor and offered to help us if he could. After all, before Smaug assaulted Erebor and Dale, he resided in Mount Gundabad where he led a force of Orcs. Legolas’ father and mother, along with his cousin Tauriel’s parents, took part in a battle against those Orcs. Thranduil survived, but Legolas’ mother, aunt, and uncle all perished,” Alaisia revealed to Beorn.

“Legolas may have a personal stake in the effort to defeat Smaug, but Thranduil does as well based on what you told me, and he did nothing before. How many years ago was this promise made, Alaisia? Time changes many, even Elves, and it is quite possible that the Legolas you befriended then has become more like his insular father. I have heard little of the Elf-prince of late, so I cannot tell you for sure.”

“You may be right,” Alaisia conceded, “but all I can do is hope. If nothing else, perhaps Legolas could dissuade his father from taking action against us.”

“We cannot count on it, though,” Thorin interjected. “At the same time, we _must_ travel through Mirkwood. It is the most direct route to our destination. Traveling around it would take far too long and leave us more exposed to our enemies. Is there a route through it that might still be safe?” He asked Beorn.

“If you insist on traveling through the Woodland Realm, I would urge you to make for the Forest Gate up north. That path will take you closer to Thranduil’s folk, but it is farther from Dol Guldur. The Old Forest Road is no longer safe to travel, so steer clear of that,” Beorn advised.

“Thank you,” Alaisia murmured.

Beorn continued. “As for what assistance I can offer, you all have convinced me of the strength of your character through your tale. You may stay here for a week, and when you leave, I will give you fresh provisions. For your journey to the Forest Gate, I shall offer each of you a pony to ride, but my ponies must not enter the forest. Release them at the edge of the woods and they will find their way back to me.”

Thorin’s eyes widened at Beorn’s unexpected generosity. “Thank you, Beorn, for your kindness. We gratefully accept your offer,” he answered.

Beorn nodded resolutely. “Of course. We share a common enemy, after all, so we are wise to support one another.”

Bombur’s stomach interrupted with a particularly impressive rumble.

“My apologies,” Bombur bashfully muttered, “we did not have breakfast this morning since we woke up to the Wargs howling, and I fear it is catching up to me.”

Beorn chuckled. “There is no need to apologize, Bombur. Take a seat around my table, all of you. I will bring out some food. I eat no meat, but I have fruit, honey, bread, and seedcakes in abundance.”

While disappointed by the lack of meat, the Dwarves were starving after a morning of fleeing from their foes, so they voraciously tore into the food Beorn provided. Alaisia ate more slowly than the others. She was brooding over Beorn’s words regarding Mirkwood, Thranduil, and Legolas.

 _Will Thranduil try to derail our quest? If he does, will Legolas support him, or will he attempt to dissuade his father?_ Alaisia wondered. _It has been quite a long time since I last saw Legolas. Who knows what might have changed in the intervening years…_

Alaisia finally finished the last of her food, and while the fullness of her stomach in comparison to its earlier emptiness went some way toward assuaging her worry, she still could not turn her mind from the subject of Mirkwood. It had been on her mind intermittently before now, but now that the Company was bound for the forest next, it was impossible to ignore.

Thorin noticed something was amiss and rested a hand on Alaisia’s arm. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?” He asked, his tone sympathetic.

“Yes, that would be quite nice,” Alaisia agreed. It _would_ be nice to walk without fear of being snatched by a Warg hunter. They hadn’t had such a luxury since Rivendell.

The two excused themselves from the table and made their way outside. Alaisia noted that the gate in the thorny hedge was now shut, adding an extra sense of security. She took the opportunity to take a proper look around Beorn’s homestead. Before, she was so singularly focused on reaching safety that she didn’t notice the stream that wound its way through the landscape, nor did she notice the grand oak trees that dotted the field. The oaks coalesced into a small woodland by the stream, and the sweet smell of clover wafted over to Alaisia’s nose from a nearby patch.

“It is quite peaceful here,” Alaisia murmured. She linked her arm with Thorin’s as the two of them made their way toward a dense thicket of oak trees.

“Aye, it will be nice to linger here for a week,” Thorin concurred. “You looked troubled at lunch. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was thinking about what Beorn said about the Woodland Realm and Thranduil. Perhaps it was silly, but all these years I assumed that whenever we decided to retake Erebor, we might have an ally in Legolas,” Alaisia muttered sadly.

Thorin nodded sagely. “While I will always be grateful to Legolas for saving you when I was not there to aid you, he is still Thranduil’s son. As heir to the throne, Legolas is duty-bound to heed his father’s wishes. Our best hope, I deem, is that we will not encounter Thranduil or any of his subjects during our trek through that accursed forest.”

Alaisia exhaled softly. “My heart tells me that you may be right, Thorin.”

They walked in silence for a few moments after that, winding their way deeper into the cluster of oak trees. When they were well away from the house, shielded by trees on all sides, Thorin spoke again.

“That…is not all I wished to talk to you about. I promised you back in Goblin-town that I would tell you why I was brooding when we left Rivendell. Things became rather hectic after that to say the least, but I wanted to explain myself to you now that we have some time.”

He explained everything. Thorin reminded Alaisia of his long-standing fear of falling prey to the same dragon-sickness that claimed his grandfather’s sanity, and he told her of the strange nightmares about treasure and greed that plagued him of late. He also relayed Saruman’s venomous words from the morning of the Company’s departure, including the White Wizard’s mysterious warning about the Arkenstone.

“From that encounter with Saruman, so close on the heels of the first nightmare, to the time when we fell into that blasted cave, I brooded ceaselessly. It is not by any means an excuse for my behavior, for how I callously shut you out, but I didn’t breathe a word of any of this to you out of a desire to protect you. I didn’t want to frighten you; I thought I could work through it on my own and not have to trouble you with this.

“I was wrong, though. I was so wrong. Instead of protecting you, I hurt you. As irrational as it sounds, I was afraid, too. Afraid that you might reject me if you knew,” Thorin confessed. He turned, embarrassed, and heaved out a sigh.

Alaisia tugged on Thorin’s arm, forcing him to turn back to face her. Her face softened, and she hoped that her expression conveyed love, sympathy, and forgiveness in equal measure.

“Hey,” she murmured, holding Thorin’s face tenderly in her hands. “It is all right, Thorin. I would never, _ever_ , reject you. I love you with all my heart and have stood by your side through many a trial. Whatever the future holds, I will not abandon you. I am glad that you told me what was troubling you, and I promise you that I am here to support you however I can. Don’t let Saruman’s poison taint your mind. You are a good King, and I have every confidence that you will not fall to the dragon-sickness.”

She leaned in and kissed Thorin then, threading her hands through his hair to gently pull him in closer.

“I love you too,” Thorin whispered hoarsely. “Thank you for being so forgiving and so understanding.”

“Of course,” Alaisia replied, smiling broadly at Thorin. “Have any more of these dreams bothered you over the past couple of days?”

Thorin shook his head. “No. I don’t know why, but the dragon-sickness nightmares have ceased for now. They’ve been replaced by frightening visions of what might have happened to my father.”

Alaisia’s heart fell. “I am so, so sorry Thorin. We haven’t even had a chance to properly talk about that with all that happened. I had hoped that we might one day find Thrain…” Her voice trailed off, for she was overcome with emotion.

Thorin sank to the ground, resting his back against a tree, and Alaisia leaned against him. “I hoped so too. He was the best father a Dwarf could ask for. He loved Dis, Frerin, and I so much. He fought for our people fiercely, fought for the two of us fiercely when my grandfather schemed to keep us apart. What hurts the most, aside from the fact that I never even got to say goodbye, is that our children will never meet him.”

Tears began to flow down Thorin’s face in a steady torrent. “Eiraisia and Thornar always hoped that one day we would find my father and bring him home so that they could meet him. Now, they shall never know him save through stories.”

Not knowing what words of comfort she could offer Thorin, Alaisia instead wrapped her arms around her husband, pulling him in close against her chest. They sat there, Thorin in Alaisia’s arms, until all of Thorin’s tears were spent. Alaisia caressed Thorin’s back and ran her hands soothingly through his hair. No words were needed; each Dwarf understood the other’s grief.

Thorin drew back and offered a faint, grateful smile to Alaisia. Together, the two Dwarves wound their way back through the small woodland in companionable silence, and they re-joined the rest of the Company at Beorn’s cottage. There, they spent the rest of the day visiting with Beorn. Over steamed milk and honeyed bread, the travelers conversed with Beorn and shared tales of past adventures. Bilbo spoke at length about life in The Shire, for Beorn expressed much interest in that subject. Alaisia was pleased to notice that, perhaps for the first time, Thorin didn’t frown upon hearing The Shire mentioned; instead, he listened intently and had the ghost of a smile on his lips.

When the time came for the Company to rest that night, Beorn made sure the hearth had enough kindling for the fire to stay lit throughout the night. He also gave woolen blankets to the Company as an additional source of warmth. Alaisia snuggled into Thorin’s side for sleep, enjoying his proximity and the coziness the blanket provided. Owing in no small part to the relaxing nature of their afternoon and evening gathered by Beorn’s hearth, Thorin and Alaisia slept soundly that night, their sleep finally undisturbed by nightmares.

Over the next several days, the Dwarves, Bilbo, and even at times Gandalf all assisted Beorn around his farm. They tended to the ponies and the crops, helped Beorn bake more of the delightful bread that he served them when they first arrived, and chopped wood. Kili volunteered to harvest honey (with a not-so-secret motivation to consume some of it as he harvested it), but he was promptly removed from honey harvesting duty when he got stung multiple times by Beorn’s bees.

Even if their days involved some measure of labor, the members of the Company relished the chance to be free from danger for a short while. It gave them all a much-needed chance to rest and recover their strength. Oin gave Alaisia salves to apply to Thorin’s chest in an effort to hasten his healing, and by the fifth day at Beorn’s house, Oin declared that Thorin’s wounds were healed well enough to remove the stitches.

On the sixth day at Beorn’s, Alaisia made her way to the stream that cut across the skin-changer’s property. She ventured directly to the deepest part of the oak tree grove that surrounded the stream and slipped off her cloak.

 _A bath will feel wonderful,_ she thought happily. Just as she dipped a hand in the water to test its temperature, though, she heard a rustle in the woods behind her. She turned, half-expecting to see one of her fellow Dwarves chasing after a loose farm animal. That had already happened twice, though thankfully Beorn was more amused than annoyed, and the animals were herded back to their proper place each time.

Instead, Thorin stepped into view.

“Forgive me if I startled you, love. You were gone when I finished feeding the ponies, but I guessed that you were headed this way.”

“You know me well. I _do_ always appreciate a good bath,” Alaisia murmured. A thought occurred to Alaisia then, and a coy smile spread across her lips. “Now that you are here, I could use some help getting undressed. I only made it as far as my cloak before you announced yourself.”

Thorin strolled over to her and placed a hand at the small of her back.

“Aye, I could help you undress,” he huskily murmured as he leaned down to brush his lips teasingly over Alaisia’s neck. “Though I must admit that a bath is the farthest thing from my mind at the present moment.” To emphasize this, Thorin captured Alaisia’s mouth in a searing kiss and pulled her hips flush against his.

“Have I convinced you yet?” Thorin whispered as he leaned back to study Alaisia’s face.

Alaisia raised an eyebrow at Thorin. “To be perfectly honest, I was hoping for this from the moment I saw you step into that clearing. But are you certain that you are well enough? Oin only just removed your stitches yesterday…”

Thorin chuckled. “Yes, _amralime_ , you needn’t worry, though it is sweet of you. I am quite well, I assure you.”

He kissed Alaisia again and she melted into him, spreading her hands against his broad, muscular back. Thorin slipped a hand under Alaisia’s tunic and swiftly undid the binding she wore around her breasts while traveling. He rubbed the sensitive flesh of her breasts with his thumb, causing Alaisia to moan and deepen the kiss.

“Thorin—” she began to say, but she didn’t need to finish the sentence for Thorin understood what she wanted.

He broke off the kiss long enough to lift Alaisia’s shirt over her head and cast it aside. Thorin peppered kisses along Alaisia’s jaw, neck, and collarbone until he reached her chest. There, he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it lightly before placing tender kisses all around it. Thorin ran his strong, calloused hands along the arch of Alaisia’s back, enjoying the way she whined in pleasure as he continued his ministrations on her chest.

Alaisia’s hands tugged insistently at the smooth, blue fabric of Thorin’s tunic, silently urging him to remove it. He complied and tossed it over his shoulder. Seeing the fresh scars on Thorin’s chiseled, broad chest from that blasted Warg stirred a fierce protectiveness in Alaisia, and she all but _growled_ and yanked Thorin closer. She claimed his lips in another passionate kiss and pressed her breasts as close to Thorin’s chest as possible.

It was almost too much, the delicate friction from the slight scruffiness of Thorin’s beard rubbing against Alaisia’s jaw, the way in which she felt every shift in Thorin’s muscles as she clutched his back. The sensations created a heady combination of pleasure and lust, and Alaisia felt heat pool in her core. She nipped at Thorin’s lips, teasing him, and ground her hips against his.

Thorin moaned.

“Take off your pants,” he commanded, and Alaisia obliged readily. 

Thorin dropped to his knees and slowly, _teasingly_ , pushed Alaisia’s panties down. She kicked them away swiftly. Thorin rubbed the insides of Alaisia’s thighs with his hands, giving her more of the friction she craved, and gently prodded to push her legs apart. The Dwarf-king positioned himself between his wife’s legs and stroked the sensitive flesh that surrounded her entrance.

“You’re ready for me so quickly,” he observed, the upturned quirk of his lips reflecting his satisfaction at the effect he had on Alaisia.

“Always,” Alaisia managed to say before a fresh wave of pleasure overtook her. Thorin pulled away his fingers, and Alaisia thought for a moment that he might discard his own pants.

Her husband had other plans, though.

He ghosted his tongue over Alaisia’s folds, eliciting a shiver of pleasure from his Queen. Thorin followed that with a series of kisses and then pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against Alaisia’s entrance, barely nudging it inside. Alaisia threaded her hands through Thorin’s hair, urging him closer as she involuntarily bucked her hips. Thorin grabbed onto her hips began to massage them.

Alaisia moaned in pleasure at her lover’s efforts, but she wanted something else before she yielded fully to her climax. She abruptly pushed Thorin back and pulled him into a standing position once more. Her hand slipped into his trousers and gripped his member. Alaisia stroked the shaft and teased the tip of Thorin’s cock with her thumb before withdrawing her hand. She all but tore apart the laces that kept her husband’s breeches up, allowing Thorin’s impressive member to spring free. Alaisia swallowed thickly at the sight and roughly pushed Thorin’s pants down.

Thorin smirked at the obvious desire on Alaisia’s face and grabbed her by the bum, pulling her flush against his erect member.

He spun the two of them around and walked, kissing and sucking on Alaisia’s neck, until Alaisia’s back was flush against an oak tree. Alaisia leapt into Thorin’s arms, wrapping her naked legs around his back and her arms around his neck. Thorin positioned himself and thrust into Alaisia’s entrance, grunting in satisfaction as Alaisia’s legs tightened around his back to pull him in deeper. Alaisia’s hips joined in the rhythm of Thorin’s thrusts.

“Harder, Thorin!” She urged him. All of the pent-up desire that she felt since they left Rivendell was bursting forth now, and she needed him close, needed him to fill as much space inside her as was physically possible.

Thorin complied and quickened his pace. Alaisia matched Thorin thrust for thrust, her hips bucking wildly against him, until she came and cried out Thorin’s name. The sound of Alaisia’s climax caused Thorin to thrust even harder. He craned his neck upward to find Alaisia’s lips and their tongues clashed as they kissed. As Thorin came, his thrusts grew more erratic until he was finally spent.

Their breath mingled together for a few precious moments as Thorin and Alaisia rested their foreheads together.

“That…that was perfect. I love you, Thorin.”

“I love you too, and I concur,” Thorin rumbled contentedly, “I desperately needed that. I have wanted to properly make love to you since our first night here, but I wanted to wait until my stitches were removed to be safe.”

Alaisia’s pulse quickened, worried that perhaps their… _energetic_ lovemaking might have been too much for her recovering husband. “Do you have any pain now?”

Thorin lifted his head, and his silvery-blue eyes met Alaisia’s.

“None at all,” he answered happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October 13 update: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the delay in posting the next chapter. I've been absolutely swamped at work and just haven't had enough time or energy to write these past few weeks, but I'm hoping to resume my writing next week. I promise that I will finish this tale! 
> 
> Alaisia and Legolas' friendship developed in Chapters 25 - 30 of A Journey of Light and Shadow. For this AU, I've made Tauriel Legolas' cousin (through his mother's sister). In the Hobbit movies, it just didn't sit right with me that Thranduil was so severely anti-Silvan. Here, Legolas' deceased mother was a Silvan Elf. 
> 
> Up next, Thorin & co. will venture into Mirkwood. Thanks for reading, and as always I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter or the story in general. Comments and kudos make my day :)
> 
> Translations:  
> Cuivië = awakening/awake (Elvish)  
> Amralime = my love (Khuzdul)  
> Kurdunuh = my heart (Khuzdul)


	17. The Ailing Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a much-needed rest at Beorn's homestead, the Company reluctantly enters the forest of Mirkwood. However, the decaying forest proves far more dangerous than they anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much if you are still reading this story or if you just recently discovered it. I want to apologize for how long it took me to get this chapter out. It has been a hectic term of graduate school and research to say the least, not to mention some computer issues and stubborn writer's block. I finally have the energy and time to write again so I'm jumping back into this story energized and with a more detailed outline. I'm excited to be writing again, and I hope that you'll stick with me as I continue the tale of Thorin and Alaisia.
> 
> As promised, this chapter's POV is Thorin's.

Beorn eyed the members of the Company gravely as he bade them farewell. “Farewell, my friends. May fortune favor you in the days to come. However, I must urge you once more to be careful when you enter the forest of Mirkwood. That forest is cursed. Beware of the enchanted waters and do not, under _any_ circumstances, stray from the path,” he warned.

Nori grinned. “Your warning is much appreciated, but we’ll have Gandalf with us. Surely our wizard can conjure up a defense against woodland curses.”

“Have you not told them yet?” Beorn asked Gandalf, his voice and gaze sharp.

Gandalf shook his head slightly. “I thought it best to allow them a few days of rest unplagued by fretting over what is to come. It did not seem necessary to tell them prior to now.”

“Tell us what?” Nori demanded. “Are you hiding something from us?”

Irritation flitted across Gandalf’s face. “A wizard reveals what he means to _precisely_ when he means to reveal it, Nori, and I did not deem the time right until now. I regret to inform you all that I cannot accompany you into the forest,” Gandalf gravely declared.

“You’re leaving us?!” Bilbo’s incredulous voice rang out.

A terse nod of confirmation from Gandalf caused Bilbo’s shoulders to sink. “There are matters that I must investigate related to the Necromancer and the ancient blade that Radagast brought to Rivendell. Unfortunately, the answers that I seek now are not under the boughs of the trees of the ailing Greenwood,” Gandalf explained.

Anxious murmurs from the group soon rose up into a great clamor, though some voices pierced through the noise more clearly than others.

“This is simply no good, no good at all,” Dori fretted as he paced to and fro.

“What are we to do without our wizard?” Bofur wondered out loud. “Things didn’t exactly go so well the last time we were left to fend for ourselves…”

Thorin groaned and rubbed his head. _Bofur is right…the last time Gandalf left us alone, we were taken captive by goblins. Before that, trolls tied us up and attempted to cook us. We_ need _Gandalf—his strength, his wisdom, and most assuredly his magical talents—if we are to succeed. Too much is at stake, and too many wish us dead._

Before Thorin could formulate a plan to convince Gandalf to stay with the Company, Dwalin scowled and took a step toward Gandalf.

“You are leaving us to face the dangers of Mirkwood and that woodland prick of a king by ourselves?” The guardsman challenged Gandalf.

Ever the voice of reason, Balin rested a calming hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Come, Dwalin, allow me to speak with Gandalf,” Balin requested.

Dwalin grumbled incoherently and backed off, though Thorin saw that Dwalin was still glaring daggers at Gandalf.

“Gandalf, I think I speak for everyone gathered here when I say that we are all grateful for your support thus far. While I share the concern of my comrades that your departure may bode ill for our quest, it is my assumption that you would only leave us if absolutely necessary; thus, any attempt to dissuade you from your current course of action is futile. Am I right in assuming that, my friend?” Balin asked kindly.

 _A far more tactful approach than what Dwalin attempted,_ Thorin observed. Balin’s words were also far more polite than the thoughts brewing in Thorin’s own mind.

Gandalf sighed. “Yes, you are quite right Balin. The decision to stray from this quest is not one that I came to lightly. If I felt I had any other choice, if I felt even a shadow of a doubt regarding whether this lead is worth pursuing, I would have remained a constant companion of this merry Company.”

Glum silence descended upon the Dwarves and Bilbo. Faces that were creased in distress or drawn tight in anger mere moments before were now downcast in reluctant acceptance of this turn of events. Thorin was displeased to say the least, but it was abundantly clear to him that whatever Gandalf planned to investigate was a matter of the utmost importance. 

Alaisia’s voice, soft with thinly veiled worry, broke the silence. “When you have found the answers you now seek, do you intend to rejoin us?”

“Of course,” Gandalf affirmed. “Wait for me at the overlook above the ruins of Dale. I shall find you there. Then, and only then, will we make our way to Erebor. Do _not_ , under any circumstances, enter the Mountain without me. There are dangers other than dragons dwelling in the halls of that kingdom,” he warned.

Gandalf looked directly at Thorin as he spoke these last words. The wizard’s piercing gaze and ominous words deeply unsettled Thorin.

 _Is Gandalf alluding to the dragon-sickness?_ Thorin wondered, his pulse hastening to the pace of a jackrabbit at the thought. He had not confessed his fears regarding the greed that plagued his grandfather to any other than Alaisia, and the two of them agreed it was best to keep the matter betwixt themselves. Yet it was not out of the question that Saruman spoke to Gandalf of the dragon-sickness ere Gandalf departed from Rivendell much as the White Wizard spoke venomous words to Thorin himself.

The other, more alarming possibility was that Gandalf had an inkling that Thorin would fall to the dragon-sickness. _Did he foresee something?_

Thorin had precious little time to ponder that, for the entirety of the Company was swept up in making their farewells to Beorn. After ensuring that the bundles of seedcakes, honey, nuts, and bread generously provided by Beorn were cleverly packed and stowed on the ponies, Thorin and his companions set out into the wild once more. Gandalf did not gallop away from the group just yet; instead, he offered to see the group safely to the edge of the forest.

The four days it took to reach the Forest Gate passed in glum silence brought on by dread of Gandalf’s departure and a steady, soaking drizzle that would not yield. By the time the Dwarves, Bilbo, and Gandalf reached the Forest Gate, all were thoroughly damp, cold, and rather miserable. Their ponies were also quite fed up with the weather. They snorted and _neighed_ in irritation as they tried to shake water off of their manes, and all of the ponies set off at a mighty gallop toward Beorn’s homestead as soon as they were relieved of their burdens.

A massive, hulking bear appeared just as the ponies departed. It stood on its hind legs and lifted a solemn paw toward the Company in a gesture of farewell before turning and galloping alongside the ponies.

 _I suppose that explains why our journey to the forest was unhindered by foes_ , Thorin mused as he looked fondly after Beorn’s departing bear-form. While his initial impression of Beorn was rather unfavorable, largely owing to his fear that Alaisia was about to become his dinner, Thorin had grown fond of the skin-changer over the past week. Beorn showed the group a kindness Thorin was seldom accustomed to receiving from non-Dwarves.

_Now we shall have to venture on without our wizard and without a skin-changer to frighten off our enemies._

Bilbo was also quite worried. The Hobbit’s face was creased in a skeptical frown as he eyed the dark, twisting branches of the trees that crowded the path ahead. Even Alaisia, who usually treasured forests and was seldom happier than when she was surrounded by plants, looked grim as she gazed at the woods. Thorin didn’t blame her. He thought back to the last time he glimpsed the edge of the Greenwood, years ago when he and his people fled Smaug’s wrath. Then, the forest was grand and verdant with trees that towered proudly above the land. Now, it was a shadow of what it once was. _Mirkwood, indeed,_ Thorin silently agreed with the woodsmen who had bestowed that name upon the forest.

“This forest feels sick, and I truly do not like the look of it. I half expect Orcs or other unpleasant creatures to come charging out at any moment. Gandalf, is there truly no way around?” Bilbo asked.

“Not unless you venture two-hundred miles north or twice that distance south,” Gandalf gruffly declared. “By then you shall be far too late to reach the hidden door in time.”

Thorin nodded firmly. “Gandalf is right, I’m afraid. There is no choice but to cut through this accursed forest.”

Bilbo looked positively crestfallen at that.

“Oh, try to cheer up Bilbo,” Dori said encouragingly, “at least it shall be more challenging for the Orcs to find us in there. Even if we had time to traverse the open land around the forest, I warrant we would be chased down rather quickly traveling that way.”

Gandalf cleared his throat. “I would not be so quick to dismiss the threat of the Orcs simply because you will be among trees, Dori. Bolg’s Orcs are quite bold.”

Alaisia shifted closer to Thorin, her face a storm of emotion at the mention of Bolg and his minions. Her hand twitched over the handle of her sword, perhaps unconsciously, and Thorin smiled. He had heard her muttering viciously in her sleep the night before about all the different ways in which she would like to slay Bolg.

The smile vanished from Thorin’s face when Gandalf continued, though Thorin knew the moment was coming from the time the group departed Beorn’s house.

“Regrettably, this is where our paths must sunder for the moment,” Gandalf announced as he re-mounted his horse. “Beorn has graciously offered to let me use this fine steed in my quest, so I shan’t be sending it back to him just yet. Remember to stay on the path and to stay together at all costs! If you lose sight of the road, you may never escape these woods.”

With nary a further word, Gandalf spurred his horse into a gallop and swiftly left the Company. His departure was a bleak moment; indeed, even Thorin felt rather vulnerable. Alaisia rested her head on Thorin’s shoulder, nuzzling it lightly, and Thorin looped his arm around her waist as the pair watched Gandalf’s form vanish into the distance. The contact brought both Dwarves a small measure of comfort.

 _There’s no sense lingering here now,_ Thorin decided, _‘tis best we simply get on with our quest._ He pressed a light kiss to Alaisia’s damp forehead before he released her to address the rest of his companions.

“We are all loathe to enter this forest I deem, yet there is no other option before us. Let us waste no time in forging ahead, for the sooner we enter Mirkwood, the sooner we can be rid of this place,” Thorin ordered.

Bofur hoisted his share of the baggage over his shoulders. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Cursed or not, at least those trees are dense enough to provide us some shelter from this rain!”

A clap of thunder _boomed_ in the sky as if to emphasize Bofur’s point. Eager to escape the onslaught of rain, which was becoming increasingly torrential by the minute now, the Dwarves and Bilbo hurriedly gathered all of their gear and trudged into the depths of Mirkwood. As it turned out, Bofur was quite right about the woods protecting everyone from the rain. Only a smattering of droplets managed to snake their way through the tangled, dense boughs of the trees to reach the forest floor.

Rain was not the only thing the oversized firs and oaks kept at bay, however. Light also struggled to penetrate the vast darkness, undoubtedly made all the worse at the moment by the storm clouds looming in the skies far above the Company.

“Dear me, it is almost as gloomy here as it was in those blasted goblin tunnels!” Ori exclaimed as he made another feeble attempt to wring out lingering water from his clothing. The young Dwarf sneezed and shivered a bit. Though it was dry, the air was frigid and not at all amenable to clothes drying efficiently.

Thorin wasn’t _entirely_ in agreement with Ori; after all, at least the members of the Company were not captives here as they were in the tunnels. Still, there was no denying that Mirkwood was a mirthless place. Everywhere Thorin looked, there were relics of a once-grand forest that bore witness to its subsequent decay: a finely carved Elven statue of now crumbling stone here, a broken archway there. Even the path, safer according to Beorn than the Old Forest Road to the south, was in a state of complete disarray. The marble paving stones, once undoubtedly lustrous, were now chipped and filthy. Roots jutted harshly across the path in places.

It was a landscape choked with shadows and ruins, and it deeply unsettled Thorin. Perhaps it was because it reminded him of Erebor and Dale—how majestic they once were, and how tarnished they must now be due to Smaug’s assault and the passage of time.

Beside Thorin, Alaisia shook her head. “Why did the Elves of the Greenwood allow their beloved forest to descend into such disrepair? It simply baffles me…”

“I’m with you, lass! There aren’t even any good pickings left for a thief in these parts,” Nori chimed in. Dori squeaked in embarrassment at his brother’s utter lack of shame on the subject of thieving.

Bilbo hummed thoughtfully. “Well, Beorn did say that Thranduil’s folk have grown increasingly isolated, and both Beorn and Gandalf have warned us of the dangers that lurk here. Perhaps Thranduil tried to preserve the Woodland Realm at first and later retreated behind his palace walls when he deemed the task insurmountable.”

Thorin offered a grim smile to Bilbo and patted the Hobbit’s shoulder. “I admire your ability to see the best in every situation and in every person, but I would not be inclined to be so charitable toward the Elvenking. Thranduil, curse his name, denied our people aid in our hour of greatest need, just as those blasted Lake-men did. It would not surprise me if his retreat was an immediate decision rather than a last resort.”

Bilbo grew solemn at that and said no more on the matter.

Dwarves, being used to living their lives underground, far away from the light of the Sun, had a keen ability to see in conditions of limited light. This aided them somewhat as the Company crept along the forest path, though the darkness in the forest grew so intense by late afternoon that even Fili and Kili struggled to see well. Thus, their time spent traveling each day was limited, much to Thorin’s dismay. He was eager to press on through the forest as hastily as possible, but he knew it was not safe; even traveling only by day, the Company had veered slightly off the path several times now. So far, they had found their way back, but it seemed only a matter of time before they lost the path entirely.

Nights were restless for the Company, and this only added to the general atmosphere of weariness. Rustling noises, some large and ominous, others small and scuttling in nature, perpetually filled the ears of the Dwarves and Bilbo. Alaisia suggested that they double their watch in case these movements ever proved to be the sign of a hostile presence, but those on watch only ever saw glowing eyes watching from afar. Some of the eyes were red, others an eerie yellow, but all were equally unsettling.

With these less-than-optimal sleeping conditions, Thorin found himself once again plagued by dreams about the dragon-sickness. Sometimes the dreams seemed to him a warning of what was to come, other times they simply filled him with longing for his home or the treasure that awaited there. The Arkenstone featured prominently in all of the dreams, always just out of Thorin’s grasp. Thorin told Alaisia of the return of the nightmares (though at times it seemed as if they were visions rather than imaginings of an anxious mind). She reassured him as best she could, asserting her confidence that he would not fall to the dragon-sickness, and she comforted him more than once when he shot upright gasping after a nightmare.

However, while Alaisia’s previous reassurances temporarily banished the nightmares, they had little effect now on Thorin’s condition. He took to spending more time on watch, hoping that if he was exhausted enough when he did sleep, he might not dream. This worked some of the time, though it was not a perfect fix and it left Thorin increasingly weary as time wore on. Thorin knew his condition was worrying Alaisia too from the concerned looks and gentle caresses she gave him during their time awake.

“I think it will pass once we leave this wretched forest,” Thorin murmured to Alaisia one night. He sat upright against a sturdy tree, his legs fanned out to create a space for Alaisia to sit leaning back against his chest.

Alaisia squeezed one of Thorin’s hands which was wrapped protectively around her abdomen and leaned closer into her husband. “I think so too,” she murmured softly, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Beorn was right when he said a dark magic filled this place. Everything seems so much more hopeless here.”

Thorin said nothing, but he kissed the soft golden hair on Alaisia’s head gently and held her just a bit closer.

The next day, the group reached a portion of the forest that looked rather different than the ground they had been covering to that point. A plethora of mushrooms sprouted from the ground across the landscape, some barely edging above the soil, others towering to half of Bilbo’s height. Something was different in the air too, though Thorin couldn’t quite describe exactly what. His ability to speak coherently was slowly slipping away, but it wasn’t due to his lack of sleep—the same was happening to everyone else too. Everyone felt confused, lost, and off-balance.

“I don’t like the look of those trees!” Dori exclaimed.

Thorin couldn’t help but concur upon hearing Dori speak, for it seemed as if the trees were looming toward them and grasping at them with gnarled branches.

Dwalin hit a tree with one of his axes, causing some sap to ooze out, and gave a satisfied grin. “That’ll take care of that!”

The others murmured their assent and continued stumbling along, all feeling woozy and foggy. At one point, Thorin thought he saw his children running through the woods, rushing to greet him. He shook his head and blinked rapidly, for he knew that his children were safe and secure in Dvergatal. When he looked again, he saw a couple of squirrels running toward the group instead.

“Fili, why’re there two of you?” Kili asked confusedly, pointing at his brother.

“There’s only one of me, but I’m seeing two of Auntie Alaisia!” Fili exclaimed.

“Wait!” Bofur called out, holding his hat and waving it about in an exaggerated manner. “We’re not alone.”

“There’s Dwarves in these woods!” Dori drawled out.

“Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, no less!” Bofur added enthusiastically.

Bilbo looked exasperated. “That’s _your_ hat, Bofur.”

Bofur patted his head and, finding it bereft of a hat, quickly placed the hat in his hands back on his head. “Oh, I suppose you’re right Bilbo. My bad.”

Though Bilbo was a bit more lucid than Bofur and the rest, he was still not immune to the condition impacting the others. As the group went on, Bilbo stumbled a bit and dodged unseen obstacles. At one point he complained that he was walking backward though he was still clearly moving forward.

After what seemed like hours of wandering and confusion, the last vestiges of mushrooms disappeared, and the Company found themselves once more in similar terrain to what they’d been accustomed to during the majority of their trek through the forest. All of them had massive headaches now, and some of them felt a tad nauseous.

“What was that back there?” Fili asked, patting Kili’s back to comfort him after the younger Dwarf retched into a bush on the side of the path.

“I don’t know _what_ was in those blasted mushrooms back there, but I guarantee those were the cause of our symptoms,” Alaisia grumbled, clutching her head with one hand.

“Aye, either those mushrooms or some spell, perhaps both,” Balin agreed. “Whatever it was, it is no small miracle we managed to stay on the path in spite of our confusion.”

Everyone agreed heartily with that, and they forced themselves to push ahead for a while longer to put more distance between them and the mushroom grove. They all felt absolutely wretched still though, so they opted to end their trek early for the day. A humble dinner of seedcakes helped the companions feel a bit less terrible, though Dwalin still grumbled about not being able to clean all of the tree sap off of his axe.

Thorin rallied the group to move on early the next morning. The group’s rations were beginning to dwindle, including their precious water supply. Hunting might be an option, though Thorin questioned whether it would be safe to eat anything in the forest. All of the water he had passed looked stagnant and tainted. Thorin knew the Company had to press on to make up for lost time or risk running out of sustenance.

Their footsteps heavy and their faces dour, the Dwarves and Bilbo hewed carefully to the path until they came to a rushing stream. A stone bridge once stretched across it, but only half of its arch remained standing now. The distance to the other side was too great to simply leap across.

“This looks like a dead end if ever I saw one,” Gloin groused.

From Thorin’s vantage point on the ground, it looked like the bridge ended in a jagged crumble in the middle of the stream. Thorin was deeply skeptical of the structural integrity of the bridge, and he recalled Beorn’s grim warning regarding the enchanted waters of the forest. Before he could come to a decision, however, a light-footed Bilbo had scrambled up onto the damaged bridge.

“Bilbo!” Thorin exclaimed, his eyes widening in alarm. “Please be careful, we cannot afford to lose our burglar.”

“I am being careful!” Bilbo cheerfully shot back. “This isn’t a dead end at all. How many of you still have rope?”

Kili, Dwalin, and Nori all had rope that they offered up to Bilbo. The Dwarves watched as Bilbo carefully bound the lengths of rope together.

“This is almost ready. I just need something to use as a hook…” Bilbo muttered.

Bifur approached with a mining pickaxe and offered it to Bilbo, who offered his thanks and secured it to the end of the rope.

“Now, if any of you have a decent throwing arm—goodness knows I do not—all we need to do is secure it around that branch up there,” Bilbo gestured at a particularly sturdy oak branch jutting out over the stream by the bridge. “If we can lodge this rope in that tree, we can take turns swinging across to the other side. There’s still some risk, and we shall have to go just one at a time, but it should work if we go about it carefully.”

Thorin clapped Bilbo on the back. “Another excellent solution from Master Baggins. Thank you, Bilbo. We’ll go with your plan.”

Dwalin had participated in many a sporting event that involved throwing heavy objects long distances in years past at Dvergatal, so he had by far the best aim in the group. He hefted the rope with the pickaxe and tested its weight, giving it a couple of brief swings to see how it traveled. Then, aiming carefully, he launched it at the tree and pulled back, noting with satisfaction that the rope was now very secure.

“Good work, Dwalin,” Thorin commended him. “Bilbo, I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind crossing first? You are the lightest, after all.”

Bilbo nodded. “Of course. We should arrange ourselves from lightest to heaviest. If the rope begins to wear, at least some of us will be on the other side to assist the others that way.”

Bilbo scrambled back up the bridge. He eyed the murky water below warily, took a deep breath, and took a swinging leap with the rope. As soon as the rope reached the other side, Bilbo let go and fell to the ground with a minor stumble. Still, it worked. Ori, Alaisia, Fili, and Kili followed shortly thereafter, then Thorin and the other Dwarves. The rope showed no obvious signs of wear, and the pickaxe still seemed well-lodged into the tree branch. It came time for Bombur to cross, the last of the group as he was the heaviest, and he approached the rope with some skepticism clear in his face.

“Are you quite sure about this?” Bombur asked the others.

Bofur smiled encouragingly at him. “Don’t worry, brother! The rope is in good condition as far as I can tell.”

Not entirely convinced, but seeing no other way across, Bombur nodded quietly and approached the rope. He began his swing across and, for a moment, it looked as if Bilbo’s plan had managed to get the whole group across. However, just as Bombur reached the other side, the tension in the rope increased and caused it to snap close to where it was secured. Bombur leapt just in time to land on the other side, but it was a flailing leap due to the rope breaking, so he landed unsteadily and slid into the water. Bofur reacted quickly and grabbed Bombur’s braided, looped beard to try to tug Bombur out. More Dwarves rushed to aid him, and when Bombur’s shoulders were above the water line, they dragged him out the rest of the way by his shoulders.

“Bombur!” Bofur cried, leaning over his brother and shaking him gently. Beside him, Bifur muttered anxiously in Khuzdul and prodded Bombur as well.

Their efforts were to no avail, though, for Bombur’s eyes did not open.

“Give way! Allow me to take a look at him, quickly now!” Oin exclaimed, rushing to Bombur’s side with his medical supplies.

Try as he might, Oin was not able to revive Bombur. “He does have a pulse,” Oin noted, looking around at the group as he addressed them. “However, I cannot get him to wake up. He didn’t hit his head in the fall as far as I could tell, and if it were a simple faint from shock, I should have been able to wake him. I can only conclude it is due to some mysterious property of this stream, perhaps the enchantment that Beorn warned us of.”

Bofur nodded decisively. “That’s it, then. We’ll simply have to carry him until he wakes up.”

“Aye, we will not leave a single Dwarf behind,” Thorin agreed. “Since Bombur is quite heavy, four Dwarves will carry him at a time, and we will take turns rotating through so that we can continue on at close to our former pace without getting too tired.”

Thorin’s optimism that the group would be able to move on at the same pace they did before having to carry Bombur proved wrong. Even with taking turns, the Dwarves carrying Bombur simply could not keep up with the less encumbered members of their party, so the whole group had to slow down to avoid being sundered from one another. To make matters worse, the path’s condition was poorer on this side of the stream. Some stretches no longer had paving stones at all, leading the Dwarves to think they had lost the path only to find it again moments or hours later. Several days went by in this manner, and as the days wore on the Company’s supplies and spirits dwindled.

“Surely we must be nearing the edge now,” Alaisia declared. She paused, wavering on her feet until Thorin steadied her with his warm, calloused hands. They were all starting to suffer from mild dehydration now owing to rationing their water more strictly to ensure they would not run out. Before seeing what happened to Bombur when he fell into the water, the Dwarves and Bilbo might’ve considered refilling their flasks from the streams in their desperation; now, they knew that such a decision was certain to end poorly.

“I certainly hope so lass, but we can’t be sure because of how tree-infested this bloody place is,” Gloin added as he glared at the trees surrounding the Company.

“What if I climb a tree? Perhaps I can see how far we have to go if I’m above the tree line,” Bilbo suggested.

It was a wise idea, but Bilbo looked exhausted and pale, and Thorin worried whether Bilbo was strong enough to make the climb. “Are you sure you can manage it, Bilbo? It would be helpful, but if you have any doubt that you can make the climb safely…”

Bilbo resolutely nodded. “I think so. It may take me a while as I’m not particularly skilled at climbing, but I will do my best.”

“Very well,” Thorin gave his approval somewhat reluctantly. “Go carefully, and best of luck to you Master Baggins.”

With that, Bilbo began to scamper up the tree as quickly as he could. He soon disappeared beyond the leaves and branches, though an occasional rustle let Thorin know the Hobbit was still climbing. The rest of the group took Bilbo’s climb as a chance to take a well-earned break. None of them slept, except for Bombur who continued to slumber on uninterrupted, but they all sat quietly and rested their weary bones. Ori pulled out his sketchbook, his favored pastime on the adventure thus far, but after a few strokes he gave up and slipped the book back into his pack.

 _What have I done?_ Thorin thought to himself, feeling guilty as he looked around at his worn-out companions. Logically, he knew he hadn’t really had a choice but to enter Mirkwood if he wanted to reach the Lonely Mountain in time. Yet he had lost track of how many days they’d all been in the forest now, and a fear that it would be too late by the time they reached the Mountain was starting to gnaw at Thorin. 

More rustling and crinkling of leaves sounded from the trees above, much louder than before, causing Thorin to wonder if perhaps Bilbo was on his way back down already. _Perhaps our Hobbit will have good news to share with us_ , Thorin hoped.

His hopes were shortly dashed. Instead of the group’s curly-haired burglar, a massive spider easily four or five feet across came crashing through the branches and dove to the ground. It dashed at Dwalin who promptly raised his twin axes and cleaved the spider’s head.

“What in Mahal’s name-” Balin began, but before he could finish the thought more spiders began swarming down through the trees.

Thorin felt ill as he thought of Bilbo high up in the tree, climbing and likely unable to wield his sword to protect himself. He only hoped that Bilbo was able to scramble high enough that the spiders didn’t notice him or that he had been able to hide somehow.

There wasn’t much time to think about Bilbo, though, for the Company was under attack. They were easily outnumbered at least two or three to one by the spiders, though the spiders were scuttling to and fro with such speed that it was nigh impossible to count them. Alaisia grabbed Fili and Kili and ushered them behind her as she tried to shoot as many spiders as she could. Thorin joined in the defense of his nephews, drawing Orcrist from its sheath. The Elven bladed gleamed a bright silver even in the darkness of the forest and seemed to frighten the spiders at first.

“Not fond of Elf-steel, are you?” Thorin shouted as he drove Orcrist into the abdomen of a spider that had reared up and tried to jab him with its stinger.

Kili joined Alaisia in shooting at spiders at first, but the spiders’ numbers were ever increasing. Now, the spiders had drawn so close that neither Dwarf was able to get a clean shot in anymore. Thorin couldn’t even see how the rest of his companions were faring as his vision was crowded by spiders. A fresh surge of spiders leapt down from the trees, one falling on top of Fili until it was promptly hewn by a furious Alaisia and thrust off.

“Stay away from my nephews!” Alaisia roared, her eyes blazing as she seemed to forget her weariness in a rush of adrenaline. She was determined to protect Fili and Kili at all costs.

Thorin felt himself being pushed further and further away from Alaisia and his nephews by incoming spiders. He wielded Orcrist as if it were an extension of his own body, desperately fighting to return to Alaisia’s side, yet the effort seemed utterly futile. Spiders eventually obscured his vision entirely, and a particularly gigantic one managed to deliver a kick with one of its broad legs that sent Thorin crashing to the ground. The blow had knocked the wind out of him, so he lay there gasping, trying desperately to find the strength to get up.

It was no use. He was hopelessly pinned to the ground by the spiders that surrounded him. Dimly, he registered Alaisia’s voice, and the voices of his nephews, calling his name amidst the din of battle. Whether the panic in their voices was due to a threat to their safety or to their inability to see him, Thorin could not say. He grunted as he squirmed, trying to push the spiders off of him, until one spider jabbed him with its stinger.

Gradually, the world faded to dark, and the last thing Thorin remembered was a sticky web being woven tightly around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left off on a bit of a cliffhanger there, but I'm already 1500 words into the next chapter so you won't have to wait too long for the next update (probably 2 weeks, but if it is ready sooner I'll post it sooner). Thanks for sticking with me through the gap in posting. As always, comments and kudos make my day. I hope that you all are staying safe and doing all right during these strange and stressful times.
> 
> In the next chapter, the Company will continue on through Mirkwood and encounter some familiar pointy-eared beings...


	18. Unwelcome Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The members of the Company face the aftermath of being attacked by giant spiders and attempt to find their way out of Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told from Thorin's point of view.

**Thorin’s POV**

When Thorin awoke at last, the very first thing he became aware of was the tip of a sword piercing the web that encased him. He shut his eyes before he even noticed the identity of the sword, choosing to hope instead that its bearer had steady enough hands not to carve him along with the web. If that weren’t the case, well…Thorin didn’t want to see the outcome. At the very least, Thorin assumed whoever was trying to free him as a friend rather than a foe, for any foe would likely have just stabbed him and been done with it.

Slowly, Thorin felt hands pry the sticky web off of him, and he breathed a shaky sigh of relief. He felt a tad woozy from whatever venom the spiders injected in him, but at least he was alive. When he felt free enough of the web, Thorin opened his eyes to see Bilbo kneeling at his side.

“Bilbo, you’re alive,” Thorin managed, his voice a bit croaky from his ordeal. “Thank you for saving me; once again, I am in your debt. How did you manage to escape those spiders?”

Bilbo shook his head. “You’re most welcome, but I’m afraid we don’t have time for that story just now! I didn’t kill _all_ of the spiders and I’m quite worried that they shall return as soon as they have reinforcements. We must hurry now and free the others. Thankfully, they brought you lot all to the same place, so we don’t have to go searching for anyone.”

Thorin didn’t need to be told twice—being knocked unconscious and tied up by a spider was an experience he did not care to partake in again. Aside from that, he was anxious to ensure that his fellow Dwarves were all right, particularly Alaisia and his nephews. He scanned the web-bound masses scattered across the ground, some clearly singlets, others consisting of multiple Dwarves. A familiar gold-colored braid jutted out from one of the bundles, so Thorin hurried over.

_Please be all right,_ Thorin fervently prayed as he crouched down and gently eased the webs away from Alaisia. His wife awoke with a jolt, startled from her earlier ordeal, but she relaxed when she saw Thorin’s face looking down at her.

“Thorin,” she murmured, her voice tinged with relief. “I saw the spiders swarm you. Fili, Kili, and I all tried to fight our way to you, but we were knocked out before we could reach you…” Her voice trailed off as she sat up and winced a bit.

Thorin offered her a hand to help her up. He brushed away some remaining web on Alaisia’s hand and kissed her scratched knuckles.

“Are you hurt?” Thorin asked gingerly. Seeing Alaisia shake her head, he continued. “We’re safe now, at least for the moment. Bilbo managed to kill some of the spiders and temporarily frighten the rest away. But we must hurry and free the others so that we can flee on a moment’s notice,” Thorin explained.

Alaisia nodded, her face resolute, and the pair set out to free the other Dwarves. They found Fili and Kili next, bound together by the spiders, and wrapped both in a warm embrace as soon as the lads were free. Working with Bilbo, they quickly managed to free the rest of the Company. All of the Dwarves were quite stiff and in some degree of pain as they rose from their unwelcome cocoons, but none were seriously injured. The spiders’ stingers did not leave deep wounds, for they had to penetrate multiple layers of clothing to even reach skin.

Remarkably, Bombur actually returned to consciousness at some point during the encounter with the spiders. Curious to learn more about his mysterious sleep, the other Dwarves crowded around him for an explanation even as Oin urged them to back off and give him space to make sure Bombur was all right. Apparently, Bombur’s sleep had been filled with dreams of a grand Elven feast filled with every sort of food one could imagine. Needless to say, Bombur’s face fell when he learned of the shortage of food the Company now faced.

“I’m just so, so hungry. I want to go back to sleep…at least I could eat well in my dreams,” Bombur complained.

“Dream food won’t sustain you!” Oin chided his patient.

Bilbo reluctantly agreed to linger for a short time while the Dwarves attempted to rid themselves of the last vestiges of web; after all, any remnants of the sticky substance could hinder their movement. They largely succeeded in ridding their clothes and weapons of the stuff, but their hair and beards were another story entirely. Thorin suspected all they needed was a good bath to solve the problem, though when such an opportunity would present itself, he did not know. _Certainly not in the waters in Mirkwood_ , he thought grimly as he thought of what happened to Bombur.

While the Dwarves were plucking web off of one another, Bilbo explained to them how he outsmarted the spiders. He apparently had moved carefully such that they could not see him and taunted them with improvised rhymes and songs. Then, when the chance presented itself, Bilbo lobbed stones at the spiders or stabbed them with his sword. After enough spiders fell, the remaining spiders were quite maddened by their inability to see the source of their torment and promptly skittered off into the woods.

“And I now have a name for my sword,” Bilbo proudly announced as he held his blade aloft. “Sting, the spider’s bane.”

“A fitting name indeed,” Alaisia beamed, her pride in how far the Hobbit had come showing in her smile.

Thorin also commended the Hobbit on his bravery and fortitude. Looking around at the admiring eyes of the rest of his fellow Dwarves, it was abundantly clear that they all held Bilbo in the highest esteem. Indeed, they may have all been eaten by the spiders were it not for Bilbo’s courageous intervention.

“There’s just one problem,” Bilbo stammered when the praise died down. “When the spiders grabbed you and scurried off, they took you quite far from the path. I think the path is that way,” Bilbo pointed to the trees behind Thorin, “but I really cannot be certain. I am sorry.”

Disappointed and anxious murmurs rose up among the Dwarves, though it was more regarding their circumstances than Bilbo’s inability to remember exactly from whence they came.

“There is no need to apologize, Bilbo,” Thorin said as he patted the Hobbit’s shoulder. “This forest is a maze anyway without trying to recall direction whilst fighting off a horde of spiders. I doubt any of us could have done as well in your position.”

The other Dwarves agreed heartily with that, causing Bilbo’s spirits to rise somewhat.

Balin surveyed the scene, his long, white beard mottled still with flecks of spiderweb. “Well, there is no point in lingering here. I think we are about as clean as we’re ever going to get, so we might as well head in the direction you think the path is in. At the very least, maybe we can get a head start before we are found again.”

“Will the spiders even bother coming back again?” Dwalin asked. “Seems to me they thought we might be an easy meal, and Bilbo here proved ‘em wrong. Perhaps they’ll leave us alone now.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don’t think so. They seemed _quite_ angry as they made their retreat. I have a feeling they will come back.”

Thorin agreed. “Aye, we cannot discount the possibility that we will be pursued again. Let us forge ahead. Bilbo, perhaps you can lead the way? Even if this isn’t the exact direction the path is in, maybe you will see something familiar. Were you able to see anything when you climbed the tree, or was your ascent interrupted too soon?”

“I climbed all the way to the top,” Bilbo explained, “but the forest stretched out in every direction. I did see the Long Lake and Erebor in the distance, though.”

_Not the most encouraging news, then_ , Thorin thought as he followed after Bilbo. _We shall have to hope that we can find our way back to the path_. He didn’t like to think of what would happen if they couldn’t find the path.

As it turned out, much time had passed while the Dwarves were ensnared, so after only an hour or so of walking the Company was forced to stop for the night. They split the night watch into two shifts, with half of the Company stationed on each watch. If the spiders came back, they would not be caught off guard. The eerie eyes glowing in the darkness were present once more, but they had never posed a threat to the Company on any of their previous nights in the woods, so Thorin shrugged them off. Fluttering wings and bat cries disturbed Thorin’s sleep at one point, but the noise soon dissipated into the distance.

Once dawn came and enough light, such as it was, returned to Mirkwood, the party set out once more toward the direction of the path. To their delight, Bilbo’s recollection of where the path was proved quite sound. The Company soon came across the now-familiar faded and chipped stones of the path.

“Well done, Master Baggins,” Balin congratulated Bilbo. “Let us hope that nothing forces us to part ways with the path again.

While none knew how far they still had to travel to finally reach the edge of the forest, at least they were certain once more that they were traveling in the right direction. One day passed with nary a spider, causing some of the members of the Company to relax and let their guard down. Thorin was not among them; rather, he had grown to feel increasingly uneasy as time wore on. He couldn’t shake a sense that they were being watched, though by what he did not know. At first, Thorin tried to dismiss his concerns as mere paranoia, sleep deprivation, or something else. But then he learned that Balin, Bilbo, Nori, and Alaisia all had a similar intuition.

“Something isn’t right about this,” Bilbo muttered to him. “It has been far too quiet. I do _not_ trust it.”

“Aye, I have a bad feeling about this too,” Alaisia agreed.

Their fellow companions dismissed this concern, agreeing that it was possible the spiders would come back but arguing this was a rather unlikely outcome.

“Bollocks!” Nori exclaimed. “They’re testing us, mark my words, waiting to see how complacent we’ll get.”

The group did encounter more trouble, though it was not in the form of more spiders (at least at first). They were forging ahead, marching down the path as hastily as they could in their worn-out state, when the path came to an abrupt end. There were no more paving stones as far as the eye could see, nor were there obvious signs indicating where a path might once have been. At the same time, the forest was not nearing an end; indeed, the trees were clustered thicker than ever.

For a few moments, the Dwarves and Bilbo stared out at the depressing sight in somber silence.

“What do we do now, Uncle?” Fili asked Thorin earnestly.

The sight of Fili’s eyes, wide and questioning, reminded Thorin of when his nephew was a wee Dwarfling. Fili was filled with questions as a child, but at least back then Thorin generally had an answer to satisfy his nephew’s curiosity. Now, though…now Thorin did not know what to say.

“We could try splitting up into groups, strike out in a few directions, then rendezvous back here,” Gloin suggested, filling the silence.

“Are you mad?” Dwalin asked. “If we split up, we’ll never find one another again, sure as death.”

Thorin sighed. “Dwalin is right. We have some strength in numbers, and we cannot afford to risk losing anyone by parting ways, even for a short while. I suggest we continue in the same direction the path is oriented in now. Hopefully we will pick up the path again soon or see some sign of it to either side. Stay alert and search carefully for any sign of the road we are supposed to be on.”

It wasn’t the best option, but it seemed the only option before them, so the members of the Company reluctantly pressed on and left the end of the path behind them. Bilbo, Fili, and Kili walked at the front of the group as they possessed the keenest eyesight, but even their excellent vision failed to detect any sign of a path. After several hours, the light began to wane once more, so Thorin and Alaisia decided it was best that they set up camp for the evening and take stock of things in the morning.

Things weren’t any clearer when the sun rose the next morning, though. Thorin and his companions still found themselves in the middle of the woods with no sign of a path or track in sight.

“Perhaps what we wandered back to was not the path at all,” Ori glumly suggested.

Balin hummed thoughtfully. “Anything is possible. We may have ended up on a side-path, or an extension of the road that was never completed. Regardless, we cannot stay here. We must keep moving.”

Alaisia nodded. “At least if we keep moving, there is a chance we’ll find a way out of here. If we turn back, we may get lost; if we linger here, we will starve before we escape these trees.”

Thorin squeezed Alaisia’s hand softly and continued to hold it as they walked. Even though what had happened was not his fault—none of the group could have seen this coming—he still felt guilty. _I am their King. I should have done better to protect us from encountering a problem such as this_.

By this point, the atmosphere in the Company was decidedly grim. They were all thirsty, hungry, incredibly sore, and tired. A symphony of grumbling stomachs surely alerted any beings that might be near of the presence of the group. Bombur didn’t help matters by complaining bitterly about how he just wanted to go back to sleep and return to his dream-feast. Bofur elbowed Bombur after a particularly vivid description of a roast chicken with buttery potatoes that sent his stomach roaring in discontent at its emptiness. Poor Bilbo was faring the worst with the lack of sufficient food. As a Hobbit, he was used to far more meals of far better quality.

A distraction from their condition soon presented itself, though it was most certainly not a welcome one. Thorin and Alaisia had just agreed to halt the day’s march for half an hour to allow everyone a chance to catch their breath and sip some of the carefully rationed water they had left. Stomachs still groused and gurgled, but none of the members of the Company spoke. That turned out to be fortunate, for if they were talking, they might not have heard the telltale rustle in the distance that alerted them of an approaching foe.

“Is that…?” Ori asked, his voice dropping to a timid mumble. The rustling grew louder and now seemed to come from all directions, including directly above the group.

Kili nodded, his eyes wide. “More spiders. Apparently, they _were_ following us this whole time.”

“I knew it!” Nori growled, spitting in disgust at the sight of the new spider horde bearing down on the group.

So it was that a mere few days after their first encounter with the giant spiders of Mirkwood, the members of the Company found themselves in a second battle with the arachnids. This time, though, the Dwarves and Bilbo were at least marginally more prepared. On Thorin’s orders, the Company rallied together in a tight formation.

_After all, our foes were only able to capture us last time because they separated us,_ Thorin recalled.

The strategy worked well enough at first. Several Dwarves surrounded one particularly large spider, grabbed its legs, and yanked hard until the spider fell, legless, with a sickening _crunch_. Bilbo drew Sting and dove into the fray as well, fighting off spiders with a ferocity that surprised Thorin. Sting shone brilliantly, the small blade remarkably efficient at fending off the spiders who hissed and spat at the mere sight of it.

_He has come so far from the timid fellow we first encountered at Bag End_ , Thorin reflected. While of course quite proud of the Company’s burglar, Thorin also felt guilty for putting Bilbo in such danger to begin with. He was well aware that were it not for this quest, Bilbo would be safe in his armchair in front of his fireplace at Bag End, a good book and a piping hot mug of tea in hand.

A spider’s sudden _hiss_ startled Thorin from his thoughts. He spun to dodge a jab from a spider’s stinger and slashed upward with Orcrist to finish the spider off. Another spider pounced, the force of its impact making Thorin unsteady on his feet for a moment. He longed for his shield, lost somewhere over the Misty Mountains either in his charge against Bolg or in the flight to the nest of the eagles. Without his shield, he settled for punching the spider instead. It reared back, stunned, and Thorin saw Alaisia’s blade pierce the creature’s abdomen.

Thorin scarcely had time to catch his breath. For each arachnid he and his companions managed to slay, several more swarmed into the fray, their fangs bared and glistening with venom. The King grunted as he drove Orcrist deep into the head of an encroaching spider and kicked its corpse off of his blade with an armored boot. Thorin’s eyes darted around, rapidly trying to ascertain which of the numerous spiders posed the greatest threat.

“There are too many of them! We can’t possibly take them alone,” Dwalin shouted, voicing the thought that troubled Thorin’s mind.

Their current endeavor almost seemed an exercise in futility.

“Nor is there anywhere for us to retreat to unless we can find a way out of this thrice-cursed forest,” Alaisia grimly answered Dwalin, though her voice now sounded more distant.

In another moment, one in which his life was not in immediate danger, Thorin might have paused to appreciate the fact that even his forest-loving wife hated this place. That sentiment truly spoke to Mirkwood’s pathetic condition. However, that Alaisia’s voice sounded as if it had come from further away alarmed Thorin. He looked around, thinking perhaps that her voice just _seemed_ quieter owing to the cacophonous noise of the battle. After all, Alaisia had been at Thorin’s side what felt like mere moments ago.

_Yet battle often distorts one’s sense of time,_ Thorin’s anxious brain reminded him.

When he saw Alaisia, he noticed that she was now several yards away from him. The spiders were pushing her further away by the minute. As he studied the scene more carefully, Thorin saw that the same could be said for the rest of the group. Like living battering rams, the arachnids were wedging their way between battling Dwarves. Despite their best efforts to stay together, the members of the Company were now being rapidly forced apart. The sheer number of spiders, coupled with the Company’s exhaustion, precluded Thorin and the others from mounting an adequate defense.

Not satisfied with simply breaking apart the formation of Dwarves, the spiders arranged themselves in ranks such that none of the Dwarves could break through to reach one another. Thorin roared in frustration, utterly unwilling to submit to defeat, and drew Deathless from its sheath. Fueled by anger, survival instinct, and a fierce desire to protect his companions, Thorin wielded both Orcrist and Deathless against his foes. His movements were a blur of metal as he valiantly fought to penetrate the barrier of spiders that encircled him.

Yet for all his efforts, Thorin could achieve no more than a stalemate. Spider corpses were strewn about the battlefield, but more of their brethren soon appeared to replace them. Alarmingly, more were coming down from above now, making it difficult to see them until they were practically on top of the Dwarves. Panting from exertion, Thorin looked up and saw that Alaisia was now backed up against a tree. Several spiders flanked her on the ground, and she was so engaged in fending them off that she did not see the dark shadow rapidly spiraling down toward her.

“ALAISIA!” Thorin bellowed. “Above you!”

Alaisia heard Thorin’s warning and managed to dodge the descending spider in the nick of time. Irritated at its plan being foiled, the spider kicked Alaisia with one of its massive, hairy appendages, sending her stumbling back to one of the spiders around her. Alaisia stabbed backward with Dauntless, finishing off the spider that threatened her from the rear. Ere she could put some distance between herself and the other spiders, the spider that dropped down from above knocked Alaisia’s legs out from under her. Sensing her vulnerability in that moment, several other spiders started scuttling in.

_No!_ Thorin thought as he frantically tried to fight his way to his wife to little avail. He simply couldn’t get there fast enough. Drawing his bow was not an option either, for if Thorin dropped his swords for one moment, he knew he would be in the same position Alaisia found herself in.

Alaisia stabbed one spider that attempted to bite her, but she couldn’t get up as other arachnids had her effectively pinned. For a few fleeting, terrifying moments, Thorin feared the worst—not just for Alaisia, but for the rest of the group as well.

But then something quite unexpected occurred. As Thorin glanced up from his own fight to check on Alaisia’s condition in the distance, he saw a familiar blond Elf glide deftly down the string left by the spider, using it as if it were a sturdy rope.

Legolas had come.

When the Elf-prince reached the bottom of the spider’s web, he drove his two fighting knives deep into the creature’s skull. Swiftly, he spun to strike one of the spiders that had trapped Alaisia, and Alaisia slew the other. Legolas offered a hand to Alaisia to help her up and the two exchanged a few words before turning back to face the horde of arachnids, though Thorin could not hear the substance of what they said.

Many emotions swirled tumultuously within Thorin in that moment: chiefly relief and gratitude that Alaisia was safe, but also tremendous guilt that he failed to assist her and irritation that Legolas was the one to save her.

When Thorin last saw Legolas, the Prince of the Greenwood had accompanied Lord Elrond’s retinue to the Dwarves’ humble settlement in Dunland. It was years ago, almost another lifetime it seemed, following the fateful attack on Alaisia’s trading caravan en route to Dunland from Bree. Though Thorin was still biased against all Elves as a rule at the time, he could not deny the nobility and generosity of Lord Elrond’s actions in not only rescuing and sheltering the Dwarves, but also escorting them safely home.

It was a remarkable display of kindness that, until that point, Thorin had not expected from Elves. Over time, grudging respect gave way to a genuine fondness for the Elves of Rivendell.

Given that Legolas saved Alaisia’s life, Thorin _should_ have felt similarly toward him. Yet Thorin sensed at the time that Legolas’ fondness for Alaisia went deeper than mere friendship. Try as he might, Thorin simply could not shake that sentiment, and it tempered any warmth he might have felt toward Legolas. For her part, Alaisia only ever viewed Legolas as a friend.

_I may have been wrong, though,_ Thorin reflected, considering how fraught circumstances were at the time. After all, he had feared the worst regarding Alaisia’s fate given a recent attack on the village itself, and his own grandfather was scheming to set him up with a wealthy Dwarf-maid to thwart any chance of a relationship with Alaisia. _Perhaps I was simply paranoid, frightened of losing Alaisia, and therefore cast that anxiety rather unfairly on Legolas._

Furthermore, decades had passed since then. Even if Legolas did fancy Alaisia at one point, the passage of time had likely caused any such emotions to fade. _I should give Legolas another chance,_ Thorin decided, albeit quite grudgingly. Legolas _had_ been an excellent friend to Alaisia in Rivendell after all, and as of now he had saved Alaisia’s life twice over. Moreover, Legolas proved through his actions that he was not like his selfish father, Thranduil.

Just as Thorin came to his decision an elegant war horn sounded, similar to that of Rivendell but with its own unique melody. Dozens of Elves clad in the colors of the forest slipped through the trees and unleashed their razor-sharp arrows on the spiders. After that initial volley, the Elven warriors strode confidently into battle. Many were armed with fighting knives like Legolas. Their strikes came as swiftly as flowing water, and the sudden, unexpected assistance spurred the Dwarves to redouble their efforts against the arachnids.

Together, the Dwarves and Elves fought with remarkable efficiency against their common foes. While Thorin appreciated the assistance, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness that this help was not offered years ago when Smaug brutally forced the Dwarves from their home. He wondered what motivation the Elves had for helping them now. Were they hunting the spiders, or were they simply patrolling the forest when they came across the Dwarves in such dire straits? Legolas’ intentions were presumably rooted in some form of good will, but Thorin very much doubted that the other Elves gave an Orc’s behind about the fate of the Dwarves.

Not long after the arrival of the Elves, the tide of battle shifted decisively toward victory. Thorin took stock of his surroundings. The woodland Elves outnumbered the Dwarves considerably, which made Thorin quite uneasy as he was still _very_ skeptical of the intentions of most of the Mirkwood Elves. Legolas might rein them in somewhat— _if he chose to_ —but ultimately, the Elves answered to King Thranduil. Most of the spiders were now corpses adorning the forest floor, though some were attempting a retreat.

“Pursue them,” Legolas ordered several of his warriors. “We must not allow any spiders to escape if we wish to rid our forest from their evil presence.”

Several well-armed Elves obediently darted off in pursuit of the spiders on their Prince’s orders. Satisfied that the battle was now well and truly over, Thorin jogged over to Alaisia.

“Are you hurt?” Thorin asked softly, his hands loosely splayed over Alaisia’s muscular waist.

She shook her head. “I’m fine, just a bit bruised. What about you?”

Thorin chuckled lightly. “Quite exhausted, but thankfully uninjured.” He pulled Alaisia in for a warm embrace, sighing contentedly as Alaisia nuzzled her head against the crook of his neck.

Legolas, who stood a few paces away, waited patiently and only addressed Thorin and Alaisia when the pair broke apart.

“Our kingdom has been distant from others of late, but word reached us of both your marriage and your establishment of a new kingdom in Dvergatal many years ago. I offer you two my congratulations, belated though they may be,” Legolas said, a broad smile on his face.

Much to Thorin’s relief, he detected nothing other than genuine warmth and friendship in Legolas’ demeanor when the Elf looked at Alaisia. _Maybe I was wrong all those years ago, or maybe the knowledge of our union altered however Legolas may once have felt._ Regardless, Thorin now felt _somewhat_ better about the prospect of giving Legolas a second chance.

“Thank you, both for your words and for coming to Alaisia’s aid,” Thorin answered, genuinely meaning it.

Alaisia nodded earnestly. “Yes, thank you Legolas—not just for coming to my aid, but also for the help you brought. Without your Elf fighters, I am not sure how we would have fared. We’ve been lost for a while now, and our strength is dampened by dwindling supplies.”

“Of course,” Legolas murmured, “it was the right thing to do. For far too long now, these wretched, giant spiders have plagued our forest. The Greenwood used to be safe, a place filled with wondrous trees and birdsong where Elves could safely permit their children to run and play. Now, though…well, you have seen what has become of our forest.” Legolas’ voice trailed off, and Thorin saw that his eyes were now dim with sorrow.

Thorin felt some measure of pity for Legolas; after all, he knew what it was like to have your home overtaken by evil. Yet Legolas at least had his father’s palace, the main hold of his kingdom, still intact and relatively unthreatened by the evil forces without. The Elves of Mirkwood had not lost everything like the people of Erebor and Dale had.

Throughout this conversation, one question still nagged at Thorin. It seemed rather too convenient that the Elves showed up just when the Dwarves’ need for aid against the spiders was greatest. Thorin worried that there might be more to the story than Legolas let on.

“Was that your mission, then—hunting the spiders? Is that how you came across us?” Thorin asked, carefully observing Legolas’ reaction.

“That…was part of our mission,” Legolas haltingly answered, clearly uncomfortable with Thorin’s direct question.

Legolas’ response raised Thorin’s own suspicions, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alaisia frown slightly at Legolas. Before either of them could press Legolas further on the matter, Fili sprinted up to them.

“Kili’s _gone_!” Fili breathlessly exclaimed. “I haven’t seen him among us since the battle.” His face was creased with worry.

Thorin’s heart hammered in his chest and beside him, Alaisia appeared equally alarmed.

“We will find him Fee, I promise,” Alaisia vowed. “He can’t have gone too far.”

_Or have been taken too far away,_ Thorin silently added. From the nervous look on Alaisia’s face, it was clear her mind was leaning in the same direction, though neither of them wished to make Fili even more worried than he already was.

Legolas looked between Thorin, Alaisia, and Fili, his gaze filled with sympathy and understanding. “Kili is your kin, is he not?”

“Aye,” Thorin confirmed, “Fili and Kili are my sister’s sons.”

Legolas inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Then we will help you however we can,” he declared.

“KILI!” Thorin shouted, his voice booming and echoing among the trees. Alaisia, Fili, and several other members of the Company also joined in calling for the Dwarf prince, yet none of them heard anything in response.

“Wait!” Legolas called out, motioning for the Dwarves to be silent as he listened intently. “I think I heard something very faint, perhaps a quiet response. Try once more.”

To Thorin, it seemed that his shout was answered only with deafening silence. He was skeptical that Legolas, even with keen Elvish hearing, had heard anything of note.

“This is a waste of time. We should be forming a search party,” Thorin growled at Legolas as Alaisia and Fili hollered out Kili’s name. “I understand if you will not commit Elves to the cause—I wouldn’t expect any of Thranduil’s folk to genuinely care about mine—but do not stand in our way.”

Ere Legolas could devise a response to Thorin’s harsh words, both Elf and Dwarf heard what they had been listening for.

“ _Help!_ ” Kili’s muffled cry for assistance just barely reached Thorin’s ears owing to the distance, but Legolas and the other Elves heard it much more clearly. “ _Spider…web…can’t…mmph._ ” The rest was utterly inaudible, at least to Thorin’s ears.

“Tauriel, can you handle this? I’ll stay here with the rest of the Dwarves and make sure that no harm comes to them,” Legolas addressed an auburn-haired Elf nearby.

“Consider it done,” she confidently replied. Tauriel strode off into the trees with her bow at the ready in what Thorin _guessed_ was the general direction Kili’s voice came from, though he could not be sure.

Fili shifted on his feet to run after Tauriel in search of Kili, but Legolas stilled him with a gentle hand. “Patience, young Dwarf. Tauriel is my cousin and the master of my father’s guard. Kili will be well-looked after in her hands, and any threat to his wellbeing shall be soundly extinguished. Though you are strong, you cannot keep up with the pace of an Elf.”

Reluctantly, Fili nodded and remained at Thorin and Alaisia’s side.

Waiting for a sign of Tauriel’s return with Kili proved nerve-wracking. Thorin found himself on alert with every snapped twig, every rustling leaf, every slight movement of one of the Elf guards Legolas brought with him. Sure enough, though, Legolas’ confidence in his cousin soon proved well-founded. Tauriel emerged triumphantly from the trees a short while later, a bedraggled Kili following along like a lost puppy.

“Kili!” Fili joyfully exclaimed as he hugged his little brother. “We were so worried about you.”

“Thank goodness you are safe,” Alaisia added, wrapping her arms around both Fili and Kili.

“What happened, Kee?” Thorin asked his youngest nephew softly. “Are you all right? I see fresh web on you…”

“I was reckless, once again,” Kili responded with a sigh. “That’s what happened.” 

“No, you were brave Kili,” Tauriel kindly corrected him. Seeing the puzzled looks on the faces of the other Dwarves, Tauriel elaborated. “When Kili saw some of our warriors go off in search of remaining spiders to slay, he ran off after them so as to help them. He was grateful for our help and wanted to return the favor, you see. But he did not account for the fact that, weary as he was, he simply could not run fast enough to chase after them. Kili found himself alone among the trees when a spider unexpectedly attacked him; his voice was muffled because the spider was tying him up in a web when I reached him.”

“And then Tauriel shot the spider with _two_ arrows at the same time and removed as much of the web from me as she could,” Kili explained. His initial sheepishness had faded with Tauriel’s praise. Now, the lad was looking adoringly up at Tauriel.

_Oh no_ , Thorin thought, _not this again_. Of course, he was relieved that his nephew was safe and extraordinarily grateful to Tauriel for rescuing him, but Thorin had seen this face on Kili before. It was the face Kili made when he was enamored of an Elf-maid…and Kili’s hopes were invariably dashed.

This time, though, Tauriel didn’t seem entirely uninterested. She was looking at Kili curiously, almost as if he were a mystery to unravel, and Thorin thought he saw a hint of mirth in the Elf’s eyes. On principle, Thorin wasn’t necessarily opposed to Kili courting an Elf. After all, Alaisia had some Elven blood in her ancestry, so Thorin felt it would be hypocritical to oppose the union of an Elf and a Dwarf. He was _not_ particularly enthused that Tauriel was Thranduil’s niece. Above all else, though, Thorin simply wanted his nephew to be happy.

He just hoped that Tauriel wouldn’t break Kili’s heart.

“Your Highness, should we restrain them now?” An Elf guardsman asked, rope held at the ready.

The suddenness of it shocked Thorin, but the substance of what the Elf said confirmed what he had begun to suspect. Legolas’ refusal to fully answer his question earlier was telling.

“ _What?_ ” Alaisia sharply exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed as she directed her gaze at Legolas. “You were sent out to capture us, weren’t you? That’s how you found us so quickly.” In a flash, her anger melted and left sorrow in its wake. The look of abject betrayal on Alaisia’s face broke Thorin’s heart.

“You promised years ago that you would help us however you could. After that promise, after now lulling us into a false sense of security, you are now going to tie us up and do what—cart us off to your lordly father? What have we done to wrong you, Legolas?” Thorin angrily bit out.

To his credit, Legolas at least had the decency to appear pained. “No!” He shouted, louder than perhaps even he expected. It was directed at both the Dwarves and at the guard who asked if he could tie up the Dwarves. “You will not tie them up. We shall take no prisoners today,” he ordered his soldiers.

With a heavy sigh, Legolas turned to the Dwarves to explain. “My father sent Tauriel and I out with a retinue on a mission with two purposes: to exterminate as many of the spiders as possible, and to apprehend a group of ‘troublesome Dwarves’. That was his terminology, not mine,” Legolas explained, raising his hands in a placating gesture when the Dwarves started muttering angrily.

“What my father neglected to tell me, presumably because he knew I would not follow his orders if he did, was the identity of the Dwarves roaming our forest. As soon as I realized it was you,” Legolas gestured at Alaisia and Thorin, “I knew I would not complete that part of the mission.”

“And though I was not there to make the promise Legolas made to render whatever aid to you possible, I stand by his pledge,” Tauriel offered.

“So you _did_ intend to keep your promise,” Alaisia murmured. She appeared deep in thought.

“The King will not be pleased,” a different Elf interjected. “He gave a direct order to capture these Dwarves so that we could question them.”

Anger flashed through Legolas’ eyes at that. “The King commands our realm, but he does not command my conscience. As Prince of the Greenwood, I would have these Dwarves set free. I endeavor to be a man of my word, and not only when it is convenient to do so.”

“That is very generous of you, Mister Elf Prince—er—Your Highness, but I’m afraid we do not know the way out of these woods,” Dori politely interjected.

“Ah, yes. You _have_ strayed considerably from the path. I will see to it that you are escorted safely to the border of the forest so that you can continue on your journey,” Legolas offered.

“How touching,” a familiar, arrogant voice drawled. “I admire your commitment to keeping your word, my son, though in the future I would encourage you to not make promises to Dwarves. They are seldom likely to return the favor, you see,” Thranduil explained, shrugging his shoulders as he approached on a stately elk.

Legolas’ expression looked tense. “You knew the identity of these Dwarves, did you not? Yet you refused to tell me,” he accused.

Thranduil sighed. “Yes, I knew that the Dwarves traipsing through our forest were led by Thorin Oakenshield and Alaisia Glavrem. I hoped that you would follow my command, but I knew there was a considerable chance that you would stand down when you encountered these Dwarves, so I followed at a distance to ensure my order was executed.”

“Uncle, surely this is not necessary,” Tauriel pleaded. “Perhaps diplomacy is the better answer.”

Thranduil’s expression softened fractionally. “I wish diplomacy were the answer, but I am afraid that is not possible. I have tried it before with their folk to little avail.”

With a jerk of his head, Thranduil ordered his warriors to apprehend the Dwarves. Legolas and Tauriel looked on but refused to take part; each had an apologetic expression, but it did little to quell the wrath Thorin felt for Thranduil and his woodland Elves. The Dwarves were stripped of every weapon they had, bound, and lined up to march to the Elvenking’s halls.

It was only then that Thorin realized Bilbo was no longer anywhere in sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that chapter! In the next chapter (which will be ready within the next two weeks), we'll return to Alaisia's perspective as the Dwarves are escorted to Thranduil's Halls.


	19. The Elvenking's Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Alaisia have a tense meeting with Thranduil.

**Alaisia’s POV**

The last thing Alaisia saw before an Elf wrapped a blindfold tightly over her eyes was the apologetic look on Legolas’ face. His gesture was appreciated though not necessary—Alaisia did not blame Legolas for her current captivity, nor did she blame Tauriel. Neither Elf knew who exactly they were tracking after all, and Alaisia was convinced by Legolas’ assertion that he intended to keep his promise. Furthermore, both Legolas and Tauriel risked Thranduil’s ire by pleading with him to set the Dwarves free.

Whatever small measure of comfort Alaisia might have gleaned from the prospect of Legolas and Tauriel as allies was very much mitigated by her worry for Bilbo’s wellbeing. Ere her sight was blocked by the irksome blindfold, she had the chance to look around at her fellow companions as they were stripped of their weapons and bound. She realized then that Bilbo was not among them.

 _Perhaps he managed to hide himself once again,_ Alaisia contemplated hopefully. After all, the Hobbit had rather remarkably tricked the spiders and saved the Company earlier, and prior to that he snuck through the goblin tunnels to find and free the Company. It wasn’t entirely out of the question that Bilbo had managed another such feat now. Still, Alaisia could not help but worry for Bilbo. Even if he had evaded the spiders, he might be wandering the woods, lost and bereft of a means of sustaining himself.

“ _Ooof_!” Alaisia grumbled as she tripped over an exposed tree root. Between being distracted by her worry for Bilbo and her inability to see anything due to the blindfold, she was not exactly well-equipped to avoid obstacles at the present moment.

Unable to see anything, she listened intently and gauged that the Elf who tied her up was to her right on the basis of his footfalls. She tilted her head toward where she thought he was and spoke.

“If you insist on robbing me of my sight, the very least you could do is help me avoid falling,” Alaisia snapped at him. “I’m not asking for much, only that you tell me if I am about to run into something.”

“How is that my problem?” The Elf asked, his voice filled with amusement. “Walk more carefully, she-Dwarf.”

“We may be prisoners now, but she is still a Queen, and I am a King,” Thorin growled. “Show some respect.”

Another _oof_ , followed by a heavy thud, marked the sound of a second Dwarf falling. From the string of creative swear words that followed, it was clearly Dwalin.

“For Yavanna’s sake, if they _must_ be blindfolded, at least help guide them!” Tauriel exclaimed. “Consider that an order, soldiers.”

When Thranduil did not contradict Tauriel, several Elves mumbled apologies to her. Tauriel’s command proved sufficient, for the Elves steered the Dwarves clear of any potential hazards thereafter. Alaisia could not say exactly how much time she and the others spent walking toward Thranduil’s halls, but it felt like hours judging by the ache in her legs and the gnawing hunger in her belly. Each rustle among the trees set Alaisia on edge, for she could not tell if its cause was a squirrel or another one of those dratted spiders.

The march came to an abrupt halt when Alaisia heard the sound of rushing water somewhere below the group.

“Remove their blindfolds ere you permit them to cross,” Thranduil instructed his soldiers. “It is far too dangerous for uncoordinated, heavy-footed Dwarves to cross this bridge without the benefit of sight. Though these travelers are my prisoners, I am not in the business of killing my captives either deliberately or through neglect.”

Alaisia breathed a sigh of relief when she blinked her eyes open. Her eyes first drifted to the bridge that Thranduil referenced, noting how its narrow breadth made it easily defensible against potential intruders and also how it had no guardrails to protect against a fall into the raging river below. Beyond the bridge stood what Alaisia assumed was the entrance to the Elvenking’s palace. Pillars of stone with delicate, winding designs surrounded a small courtyard leading up to a grand door. To Alaisia, it looked as if a building from Rivendell had been swallowed by trees and stone.

It was also readily apparent that it would not be easy to leave this place without the blessing of King Thranduil.

Thranduil entered his palace first followed by Legolas, Tauriel, and a small group of guards. One by one, the Dwarves were then herded across the bridge and through the door by the remaining Elves. When Alaisia set foot inside, she nearly gasped. A vast, cavernous space stretched out before her, filled with columns, bridges, and the sound of dozens of tranquil waterfalls cascading down from varying heights. While the stone carving outside had been more geometric and orderly, inside all of the carving was carefully done to simulate plants. Each column looked like a stone tree, and each bridge looked as if it were comprised of multiple sturdy branches woven together to forge a path.

Alaisia’s wonder melted into simmering anger when all of her fellow Dwarves save Thorin were rounded up and ushered down a flight of stairs.

“Where are you taking them?” She demanded.

“That is none of your concern,” An Elf calmly responded. “Our King demands your presence.”

The placid demeanor of the Elf mightily irked Alaisia. Judging from the look on Thorin’s face, she was not alone in her wrath. Thorin looked as if he would happily smite the Elf in the face with his fist were it not tightly bound. Alaisia sought Thorin’s eyes when the pair were swept for any lingering weapons by a different pair of Elves. They could not speak freely in front of their captors, but Thorin’s dogged expression and subtle nod spoke volumes to Alaisia.

 _We will stick with our plan to tell Thranduil nothing of our true quest_ , she reasoned. Whether or not the Elvenking would be satisfied by Thorin and Alaisia’s tale was another matter entirely.

Thorin and Alaisia were steered over a series of bridges and stairs that ascended the cavern. Their destination was visible yards away: an imposing throne crowned with elk antlers, perhaps from a former steed of the King. When Alaisia reached the platform below the throne, she saw that a series of steps arced from the throne to the ground in a gentle twist. It was without a doubt the most pompous throne Alaisia ever bore witness to. She thought back to Lord Elrond in Rivendell and his comparatively modest chair of finely polished beech and satin, the closest piece of furniture to a throne that the Elf-lord possessed. The chair was an object of practicality and comfort, not a statement of power. Even her fellow Dwarf rulers in the Ered Luin had humbler, simpler thrones than Thranduil.

Looking at the Elvenking, stretched languorously like a cat across his throne, Alaisia could not help but see his profound arrogance. She wondered fleetingly if Thranduil’s haughtiness, and his grandiose throne, were byproducts of a profound sense of insecurity.

_True leaders do not require excessive opulence to demonstrate their merit._

She glared at Thranduil with narrowed eyes as he gracefully rose and prowled down the steps. Beside her, Thorin stared down the Elf warriors that were stationed around the platform. Thorin brushed his shoulder against Alaisia’s, a subtle gesture of love and reassurance that Alaisia returned.

Thranduil broke the silence when he stood but a few paces away from Alaisia and Thorin, he smirked.

“Alaisia Glavrem,” he drew out slowly, an infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his lips, “I remember you. I saw you once during my last visit to that wretched mountain kingdom.”

Alaisia’s pulse quickened as her temper flared. “And I remember you, _Your Grace_ ,” she bit out sarcastically. “I remember how you mocked me and called me a beardless mutt when you saw me in Erebor. Perhaps you thought I did not speak Elvish, or perhaps you did not care. Either way, it spoke volumes to me of the content of your character, and your actions of late have done nothing to dispel my dismal opinion of you.”

Wrath flashed through Thranduil’s eyes like a winter storm. “Bold words, and dangerous ones coming from a captive. Yes, I recall using that phrase to describe you, and I very much stand by it. After all, you _are_ beardless, and you are also not of pure Dwarvish or Elvish blood.”

“I fail to see how that impacts my worth as a person,” Alaisia shot back. Oh, how she would have _loved_ to strike Thranduil in that moment. A nice, black eye on that otherwise unmarred face would be just the thing.

“I never said anything about your worth as a person,” Thranduil murmured with feigned innocence. “Though I must admit that I never understood why my son spoke so fondly of you upon his return from Imladris. Befriending a Dwarf…such an utterly absurd decision on his part.”

Alaisia bit back the retort fighting to leap off the tip of her tongue. Harsh words seemed to not phase the Elvenking, and Alaisia had no desire to tarry in conversation with him longer than strictly necessary.

“Is there not a wisdom in working together? Did the Valar command that Elves and Dwarves never work together?” Alaisia asked, unable to _completely_ strip her words of sarcasm in light of her current temper. “I believe that the partnership between the Dwarves of Dvergatal and the Elves of Imladris proves the value of Elves and Dwarves setting aside foolish age-old feuds.”

Thranduil scoffed. “Age-old feuds? I _remember_ the start of those feuds; I _remember_ how the Dwarves slew King Thingol of Doriath. That may have come to pass many years ago, but I have seen the inherent fickleness and greed of Dwarves lead to dire consequences time and time again over the ages.” Thranduil’s eyes locked onto Thorin. “Most recently, I recall the utterly insatiable greed of your grandfather Thror, and how it brought the wrath of a dragon down on Erebor and Dale alike.”

“Do not speak of Erebor’s downfall,” Thorin growled, his voice dangerously low. “You could have assisted us in our hour of need when we were starving, wounded, and without shelter; indeed, you marched your whole bloody army to our borders. But then you turned your back on the suffering of my people and failed to offer us even humanitarian aid. All because of what—how my greedy grandfather failed to return your precious jewels to you? My grandfather was flawed, that much I freely admit, but you…you are hopelessly spiteful and petty, Thranduil.”

“The Gems of Lasgalen mean a great deal to me,” Thranduil declared. “My wife was lost to dragon fire years ago, as Legolas has already told you, and those gems were all I had left of her. She cherished them.”

“I understand that those gems are important to you, but I am surprised that you would consider those all you have left of the deceased Queen of the Greenwood. Do you not still have both your son and Tauriel, whose mother was your wife’s sister?” Alaisia probed.

_Is Thranduil really so far gone in his longing for a past that cannot be rectified that he takes his own kin for granted?_

Clearly Thranduil had not expected this line of questioning. It threw him for a loop, and Alaisia could tell from the almost petulant look on Thranduil’s face that the Elvenking did not enjoy being challenged in this manner.

Evidently eager for a change of subject, Thranduil redirected the conversation. “That is none of your concern, she-Dwarf,” he snapped. His eyes flicked impatiently between Thorin and Alaisia. “Tell me, for I am curious to know, _why_ you were wandering through my forest? I have my own suspicions, but I shall listen to your story first.

Thorin’s jaw twitched, a telltale sign of his ill-concealed contempt for Thranduil. He cleared his throat and took a calming breath before answering.

“We were traveling to visit Dain, my cousin and the Lord of the Iron Hills. Thinking to take a shortcut and reach our kin faster, we decided to pass through the Greenwood,” Thorin tersely stated. He stuck closely to the false narrative that he and Alaisia had practiced early on in their trek through Mirkwood.

“A shortcut, you say,” Thranduil mused. “Yet surely your cousin would have warned you against traveling through these woods if he knew of your intent to visit. It is well known in all of Rhovanion that the Greenwood is no longer as safe to travel through as it once was. Why would you not have simply traveled around our borders?”

“Dangers abound outside of your forest as well as within,” Alaisia explained. “We did not deem it safe to make the lengthy journey around the Greenwood to our destination.”

“Hmm, that may be so,” Thranduil offered, “yet I do not believe _that_ is the reason you chose to pass through my forest. You passed into my kingdom because you are in a hurry to reach Erebor. Some might imagine that a noble quest is at hand, but I know better than to assume the best of Dwarves. Experience has shown me that far baser objectives often motivate you. Your quest is not about reclaiming a home that was cruelly—albeit predictably—stolen from you. No, you are driven by a far less honorable purpose. You wish to reclaim the treasure hoarded by Smaug, do you not?”

Alaisia fought the urge to look at Thorin, for she knew such a gesture would be a dead giveaway. To say that she was _furious_ that Thranduil ascribed the purpose of her and Thorin’s quest to mere greed was a massive understatement. Yet anything she said to right the record would destroy any chance at salvaging the lie that the group was traveling to visit Dain.

In the end, it did not matter whether Alaisia decided to restrain herself, for Thorin’s self-control snapped under pressure from his wrath.

“How dare you?” Thorin challenged Thranduil, taking a threatening step toward the Elvenking that led the Elves standing guard to ready their spears. “Neither Alaisia nor I would have left our beloved children behind in pursuit of gold. We have plenty of it in Dvergatal, which you would know if you were not so aloof and uninformed of the world beyond your pathetic Woodland Realm. You are vain, hateful, and utterly without honor. You embody the very traits you accuse all Dwarves of possessing.”

Thorin stood still then, his chest heaving with emotion and his fists tightly clenched as he stared up at Thranduil.

Thranduil raised his hand in a silent gesture for his guards to stand down. “Why _did_ you leave your children, then?” Thranduil asked icily. “Do not waste my time with more lies regarding your pigheaded cousin Dain. Few are able to successfully deceive one who has lived as long as I have.”

“ _Ishkh khakfe andu null_ ,” Thorin swore at Thranduil.

Alaisia’s eyes widened in shock, but not in disapproval at her husband’s response. As far as she was concerned, the Elvenking deserved even harsher words. Though Thranduil did not know the precise meaning of what Thorin said, he guessed from the tone that it was harsh and crude. Thranduil’s face and pointed ears were tinted red with anger.

“Lock them away,” Thranduil ordered, dismissing the Dwarves with a flick of his hand. “Perhaps some time in our cells will teach these two Dwarves proper manners and persuade them to tell me of their true purpose. They shall not leave this place until they bend.” He leaned down over Thorin and Alaisia, smiling in an unsettling manner. “And unlike them, I am not in a hurry.”

None too gently, a pair of Elves grabbed Thorin and Alaisia and escorted them away from Thranduil. Several other guards followed suit, their spears poised to strike in case Thorin or Alaisia made a sudden, threatening move. The two Dwarves were led deep down into the dungeons, though the dungeons of the Elvenking did not at all resemble those of the goblins in the Misty Mountains. Even by the prison cells, dozens of torches and lanterns illuminated the halls, and the sound of running water was never too distant.

“Put the lass in this one here,” a russet-haired Elf commanded, gesturing at an adjacent cell.

Alaisia strained against the guard holding her. “You would separate a married couple? That is not very noble of you,” she challenged.

“Says the prisoner who trespassed into our realm,” the Elf snarked back at her as he unlocked the cell and unceremoniously pushed Alaisia into it. He cut her bindings through the bars once the gate was tightly locked in place.

“Let me _go_!” Thorin growled, nearly breaking free of his captor’s grip as he desperately tried to follow Alaisia. “How dare you?”

“Move along!” Another Elf ordered, shoving Thorin in an attempt to force him along. When Thorin did not yield, two Elves hauled him bodily down the path. Shortly thereafter, Alaisia heard a string of Khuzdul swear words as another prison cell gate _clinked_ shut.

Her heart heavy, Alaisia took stock of her surroundings. There was a simple bed roll, serviceable but ill-padded; a short candle in a dish; and a small washbasin with a worn towel. Nothing sharp that could be used as either a weapon or a lockpick was present. There was a small opening in the gate, so Alaisia reached her hand into it and shoved as hard as she could to see if it would budge, but it was latched tightly shut.

 _I suppose we are stuck here for some time_ , Alaisia ruefully thought. She idly wondered how long Thranduil intended to keep the members of the Company locked away ere he questioned any of them again. One day? One month?

 _We will be lucky to escape this place with enough time to reach the Mountain before Durin’s Day_. A labored sigh escaped Alaisia’s parted lips as she thought of her children, her parents, and Dis back in Dvergatal. If the group failed to reach the Mountain in time to open the secret entrance, they had little hope of success through the main gate. Failure to get to Erebor by Durin’s Day would mean the whole quest was for naught. It was a sobering thought considering all that they’d suffered, all that they’d sacrificed.

A sharp knock on the latched opening in the gate startled Alaisia, and she looked over to see an Elf with a tray of food. The Elf unlocked the latch, shoved the tray through, and locked the latch again immediately.

 _At least they do not intend to let us starve_ , Alaisia thought gratefully as her stomach grumbled once more. She was pleased to see a mug of water on the tray for she was absolutely parched. After quenching her thirst, she tore eagerly into the food. It wasn’t much—the apple was bruised, the bread was stale, and the cheese was of poor quality—but it was more food than Alaisia had seen in days. She scarfed it down hastily, not leaving a single crumb behind for a mouse to find, and she looked forlornly at the tray when every morsel was gone.

Now that her stomach was not mounting a mutiny in demand for food, Alaisia shifted her attention to the washbasin. She _still_ had spiderweb in her hair, not to mention a crust of spider guts from the battle splattered across her body. Alaisia cupped her hands together and started scrubbing her face and hair with water, using the towel to try to displace more stubborn bits of debris, but it was to little avail. A proper bath was needed to clean herself, not a small bin of water lacking soap.

“Alaisia,” a soft voice whispered. Her name was uttered so quietly that it took Alaisia a moment to process and realize that Legolas had spoken. She walked to the edge of the cell to speak with him through the bars.

Legolas’ face fell as Alaisia approached him. “Forgive me,” he whispered contritely. “I have failed you as a friend. Tauriel and I _will_ find a way to get all of you out of here, whether it is with my father’s blessing or not.”

His conviction both appeased and alarmed Alaisia. “There is nothing to forgive, Legolas,” she reassured him. “You are not to blame for any of this. And while I appreciate your commitment to getting us out of here, I do not want to cause a rift between you and your father.”

Legolas’ eyebrows furrowed. “Thank you, but I still insist that I will do what I can to end your imprisonment. I…heard about the conversation between you, Thorin, and my father.”

Alaisia grimaced. “Perhaps I did not handle that in the most diplomatic manner, but then again Thranduil _led_ with taking us captive so I assumed diplomacy had gone out the window. Though I do not know for certain, I suspect that Thranduil’s motivation for imprisoning us stretches beyond mere contempt or a desire to know what our objective is.”

“When he sent us after ‘Dwarves in the woods’, he claimed that a group of Dwarves was causing a disturbance and rousing the spiders. Your presence may have riled the spiders even further, but the spiders have been agitated for many moons. I, too, believe there is more that my father refuses to tell us,” Legolas explained.

A solemn silence stretched between the two. Even if Thranduil were more transparent about his motivation for taking the Dwarves captive, Alaisia was not certain she could trust him. Legolas was also deep in thought, though his eyes had wandered to the now-pristine food tray on the side of Alaisia’s prison cell. His expression was one of mingled sorrow and regret, but also frustration.

It reminded her of how Thorin looked when frustrated with his grandfather’s dragon-sickness, though Thror’s ailment and Thranduil’s temperament were quite different from what Alaisia had seen thus far.

“I must leave now, for I will be missed if I am gone for too long,” Legolas muttered. “Tauriel is an ally,” he declared, looking directly at Alaisia. “You can trust her. As I told you in Rivendell, she wanted to help your people when you were forced to flee Erebor and Dale, just as I did.”

The unspoken implication of Legolas’ words, that together he and Tauriel would help find the Dwarves a way out, hung heavily in the air as Legolas swiftly departed.

Left with little else to do, Alaisia returned to trying to rid herself of spider-associated particulate matter with the washbasin as she contemplated her circumstances. She desperately wished for a book to read to pass the time. More than anything, she longed to see Thorin or to see her nephews to make sure they were all right.

Alaisia returned to the edge of her cell and listened intently, hoping to hear some sign of one of her fellow Dwarves. She smiled as she heard Bombur snore heavily somewhere down below and Balin hum to himself. As Alaisia listened more, she heard hushed whispers. She strained to hear who was speaking, and realized that Kili was speaking with an Elf, though she could not place the Elf’s voice or make out much of the conversation. A peal of laughter rose up from the Elf, good-natured and warm, though it quickly quieted.

 _Is that Tauriel?_ Alaisia wondered. She had not heard Tauriel speak enough yet to be certain it was her, but Tauriel had seemed rather intrigued by Kili after saving him. Kili was certainly smitten with Tauriel based on the look on his face after his rescue.

 _Maybe something good can come out of this_ , Alaisia contemplated hopefully, though she very much worried about whether or not Thranduil would allow his niece to pursue a Dwarf, even a noble one such as Kili.

The conversation subsided after some time and was followed by the sound of light footfalls on the stairs. Alaisia peered out to see Tauriel approaching her cell. Between the smile on her face and the slight tint to her cheeks, the Elf seemed in high spirits following her conversation with Kili.

“Alaisia,” Tauriel warmly greeted, “Kili asked me to tell you that he is well. He knew you would be worried.”

Alaisia grinned sheepishly. “I do always worry about my nephews. Their mother Dis, Thorin’s sister, only allowed Fili and Kili to join us because we promised to keep them safe.”

“It seems like Kili sometimes makes that somewhat difficult,” Tauriel lightheartedly noted. “He has a courageous heart, that much is readily apparent, but he himself admitted that he is rather reckless.”

Alaisia chuckled. “Aye, he has been reckless ever since he was a wee Dwarfling. He is a sweet lad, though.”

Tauriel blushed. “Yes,” she quietly replied, “I enjoyed talking with him.”

Alaisia had to suppress the urge to beam from ear to ear. She did not want to get ahead of herself, but she was overjoyed that _finally_ one of the many Elf women Kili expressed interest in seemed to reciprocate his interest.

Tauriel reached into the knapsack she carried and pulled out a few carefully wrapped items and slipped them through the bars. “Pastries I procured from the kitchens,” she explained as Alaisia gathered the packages up. “Legolas mentioned that you and the other Dwarves had already eaten all of your food. We thought you might still be hungry since your food supply was deficient when we found you. I’m bringing some of these around to everyone.”

“Thank you, that is very thoughtful of you,” Alaisia murmured, touched by Tauriel’s kindness.

“You are welcome,” Tauriel answered graciously. “It is the least I could do, considering how my uncle has treated you and your companions.” She saw Alaisia’s eyes drift toward the packages. “Please go ahead, you do not have to wait.”

Alaisia’s stomach grumbled in response, so she nodded in gratitude and delicately unwrapped one of the items. It was a fluffy pastry filled with jam and drizzled with honey. Alaisia hummed happily at the taste.

“This reminds me of baked goods I’ve had in Rivendell before,” she murmured.

“I am glad,” Tauriel said, her eyes filled with mirth. 

Tauriel sat with Alaisia as the Dwarf ate, speaking of life in the Woodland Realm and of how grim circumstances in the forest had grown of late.

“It has been many long years since I departed this forest for any destination other than Lake-town,” Tauriel glumly explained. “My uncle has grown more insular in the face of the threats plaguing our home, and in doing so he has curtailed communication between us and other kingdoms. I am ashamed to admit that I know little of the status of the world beyond Rhovanion at present. Is there peace abroad, or are other lands also facing grave threats?”

Alaisia, now finished with her pastry, frowned thoughtfully. “Though the challenges are perhaps more pronounced in the Greenwood than they are in other places, trouble is brewing elsewhere as well. We were attacked by ruffians and trolls ere we reached Rivendell, where Lord Elrond sheltered us for a time, and also hunted by Orcs and Wargs. Goblins are gathering their strength in the Misty Mountains, or at least they were…they took us captive, but as we fled Thorin slew the Goblin King.”

Tauriel’s eyes widened. “Kili did not speak much of your journey thus far, but it sounds quite dangerous!” Her demeanor shifted to guilt. She lowered her voice, careful to remain quiet so that even other Elf ears could not hear. “I am ashamed that we are now your captors, just as goblins apparently were before. You have done us no wrong.”

Alaisia sighed. “As I told Legolas, I do not blame you. I blame Thranduil. And though I do not know what exactly Thranduil wants, at the very least I know that we do not have to fear for our lives here.”

“Definitely not!” Tauriel agreed emphatically. “How did you escape the goblins?”

Alaisia froze. Between her own impression and Legolas’ words, she most assuredly trusted Tauriel. Yet she also knew that Tauriel would be obligated to tell anything of interest to Thranduil if he asked, and she was reluctant to put Tauriel in a position where she would be forced to either lie or conceal information. Alaisia nearly decided that she would just credit Gandalf with rescuing the group; after all, Gandalf was the one who rescued the entire group in the end, even if Bilbo helped rescue them earlier.

Still…Alaisia was very worried about Bilbo’s fate as she had still not seen any sign of him. If she told Tauriel of Bilbo’s existence, without explaining the reason for his presence, perhaps Tauriel could search for him and ensure his safety.

After much hesitation, Alaisia haltingly spoke. “There is…another in our group, a Hobbit of quite remarkable talent named Bilbo. He found us in the tunnels and freed us.”

“What an astounding fellow!” Tauriel exclaimed. “I have only ever heard of Hobbits as gentle folk who enjoy good food and the comforts of home, not of Hobbit adventurers.” She frowned. “Yet he is not among you all now. Did he go home, or did an evil fate befall him?”

Alaisia winced. “I…I don’t know,” she whispered, rubbing her forehead anxiously. “He was with us up until the battle where you found us. After the battle, Bilbo was nowhere in sight.”

 _Enough information to know that Bilbo is a heroic fellow worth looking for and protecting, but not so much as to make things difficult for Tauriel with regards to answering Thranduil’s inevitable queries_. 

Tauriel nodded sympathetically. “I will search for him under the pretext of following up on a report of additional spider sightings. If I find any sign of him, I will let you know.”

“Thank you,” Alaisia murmured, feeling marginally more at ease.

Tauriel rose to her feet as she prepared to continue on to the cells of the other Dwarves. “Legolas and I are trying to figure out a way to get you out of here, whether through convincing my uncle to let you go or through subterfuge. We will let you know when we have a plan, I promise.”

Alaisia did not want Tauriel to get in trouble for providing aid to the King’s prisoners, so Alaisia carefully stowed the other pastries in her bed roll after Tauriel departed. Left alone, Alaisia’s mind grew restless with different worries warring for her attention. Chief among these was Alaisia’s uncertainty over Bilbo’s wellbeing, followed closely by a concern that the Company would not reach Erebor in time.

Thorin’s condition also made Alaisia fret. He had begun having nightmares about the dragon-sickness again, and Alaisia knew that Thorin’s effort to avoid sleeping to fend off the nightmares would only make matters worse. In the woods, she had been able to at least offer Thorin some meager comfort; now, she could not so much as see her husband.

Alaisia sighed as weariness settled over her like a dense fog. In addition to being physically tired from her journey—none of the Dwarves had a chance to rest since they were captured—Alaisia was also mentally exhausted from her anxiety. She nestled into her bedroll and clamped her eyes shut until sleep claimed her.

When she arose later, Alaisia felt somewhat well-rested if a tad stiff. She looked out at the hall outside her cell and saw that the torches were still blazing brightly. Bereft of any natural light, Alaisia could not tell how much time actually passed as she sat in her cell. Guards brought three meals per day, but without any context Alaisia did not know which signified morning and which signified evening. She longed to have the sun on her face, or even the still, musty air of Mirkwood. Anything was preferable to the interminable boredom of sitting in her cell, staring at the bars and hoping that _someone_ other than the guard who brought her meals might make their presence known.

Over the course of what Alaisia guessed might have been a week, Legolas and Tauriel did not visit again, nor did Thranduil summon any of the Dwarves for further questioning. Alaisia strongly suspected that Thranduil had learned of the visits Legolas and Tauriel made on the first day of the Dwarves’ captivity. The news would undoubtedly have displeased Thranduil immensely, which would more than explain how the Dwarves’ experience in prison shifted. Elves that guarded the prisoners started adhering to a strict code of silence that extended to the Dwarves. If any of the Dwarves so much as hummed, an Elf would be at their cell in the blink of an eye, ready to scold the Dwarf into silence.

These restrictions rendered any attempt at communicating across cells impossible, which of course was what Thranduil wanted—to preclude any chance that the Dwarves might conspire against him. Alaisia knew that the restrictions were also meant to isolate and frustrate the Dwarves.

_Thranduil is testing us. He wants to see how long it will take for us to abandon our stubbornness and yield._

Left with absolutely nothing to do but think, Alaisia started replaying the meeting between Thorin, Thranduil, and herself in her mind, analyzing what she might have done differently to achieve a better outcome. While at the time diplomacy certainly did not seem likely to bear fruit, Alaisia now chided herself for allowing her temper to get the better of her. She _hated_ Thranduil—she was certain that would never change—but hatred would not open locked prison cells.

 _Our priority must be to reach the Lonely Mountain_ , Alaisia decided, _old scores can be settled in the months and years to come._

Alaisia’s musings were abruptly interrupted when she heard footsteps outside her cell. She looked to the bars, assuming the source was a guard but hoping it might be Legolas or Tauriel. Yet as Alaisia looked out, there was not a soul in sight. Even the guards that generally paced the hall were nowhere to be seen.

 _I must be imagining things_ , she thought, shaking her head to clear any mental fog. When she opened her eyes once more, she gasped in surprise.

Bilbo Baggins was directly in front of her cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you enjoyed this update! In the next chapter we'll continue with Alaisia's point of view for a bit, then shift back to Thorin's point of view. I'll be ready to post the next chapter in a week or two. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Ishkh khakfe andu null: This is what Thorin said to Thranduil in The Desolation of Smaug. I’ve seen somewhat conflicting thoughts on how this translates, but one option is “I defecate on your head and the head of all of your kin.” Not the most diplomatic words from Thorin :)


	20. The Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo Baggins helps determine the terms of the Company's departure from Mirkwood.

**Alaisia’s POV**

“Bilbo!” Alaisia exclaimed gleefully, though she was careful to keep her voice to a hushed whisper. “How in Mahal’s name did you manage to sneak in here? I didn’t even see you standing there a moment ago, though I did hear you.”

Bilbo shifted on his feet, uncertainty and hesitation flitting across his face. “I…found something, back in the goblin tunnels. It allows me to become invisible at times, though I do not understand how.”

_Something that can make him invisible?_ Alaisia pondered, trying to think of what marvelous object could achieve such a feat. She had heard tales of enchanted items that turned their wearer invisible in the past, but she always dismissed these stories as colorful legends or exaggerations. Alaisia sensed from Bilbo’s reticence there was much more to this tale and to the magical object than Bilbo admitted, but she refrained from pressing him for further details.

“I used that object to disappear shortly after the second battle with the spiders began, hoping I could resolve the matter via subterfuge as I did the first time. Unfortunately, I could not manage the same feat twice, but I was able to leverage my invisibility to sneak into the Elvenking’s halls after you,” Bilbo explained.

Once again, Alaisia was astounded by Bilbo’s bravery and resourcefulness. The Hobbit could have chosen to sneak away and return home by following the Elves back to the path and then departing the forest. Instead, he risked becoming imprisoned himself to save the Company.

“You are a remarkable Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, and you have already more than earned your share of the treasure in my opinion. Do you know a way out?”

Bilbo nodded hesitantly. “I do, but the trouble is I haven’t been able to locate your weapons. I highly doubt we could make it to Lake-town, much less Erebor, without the means to defend ourselves. This forest is dangerous as we’ve already seen, and I’m quite sure Bolg is still skulking about somewhere.

“In my efforts to find a way out, I also encountered Legolas and Tauriel. I overheard them plotting a way to free you, and their plan _probably_ would have worked. However, it would also have severely strained relations between Thranduil and his son and niece, which didn’t quite sit right with me. So, I thought on the matter for a while until I felt I had a plan with a decent chance of success. I then revealed myself to Legolas and Tauriel.”

“What is your plan, and how did Legolas and Tauriel respond?” Alaisia asked eagerly.

“I shall keep it brief as we do not have much time; Legolas managed to lure the guards away for a short time, but they will undoubtedly return soon. From what I’ve gathered, Thranduil knows we are traveling to retake Erebor. What he does _not_ know is why. Tauriel and Legolas both think that Thranduil might set aside any reservations he has about us continuing on our quest if we offer a trade.”

Alaisia’s eyes widened in understanding. “The gems. Of course, those bloody Gems of Lasgalen. Even though I despise Thranduil, my intent was always to return the jewels to him anyway, for he is their rightful owner.”

She doubted Thranduil was _only_ holding the Dwarves hostage for an assortment of gems, but then again Thror would have done the same if someone else had kept the Arkenstone from him.

_Once again, Dwarves and Elves are_ much _more alike in stubbornness than either group likes to admit_.

“Yes, the Gems of Lasgalen,” Bilbo confirmed. “I am glad that you are willing to trade them, for this is the only real solution I’ve been able to think of. I shall check with Thorin as well, though I hope he will not object, and then I will reveal myself to Thranduil.”

Alaisia’s heart leapt into her throat. “You will reveal yourself to Thranduil? What if he just tries to throw you in a cell too? He is not overly fond of listening to others…”

Bilbo nodded his head cheerfully. “The offer must come from me. Trust me, Alaisia, this will work.”

Still somewhat skeptical, Alaisia reluctantly nodded her assent. After all, Bilbo _did_ have a mysterious object that allowed him to become invisible. If Thranduil proved less cooperative than Bilbo hoped (a not insignificant possibility), it would be quite difficult to capture an invisible Bilbo.

Once he saw Alaisia’s nod, Bilbo stuck his hand into his pocket and swiftly disappeared. If Alaisia squinted, she thought she could see Bilbo’s shadow, but the dancing light of the torches made it difficult to tell. She soon heard hushed whispers between Thorin and Bilbo somewhere down the path, followed rapidly by a pitter-patter of hairy Hobbit feet. Then, silence descended on the dungeons. Several painfully slow hours passed without any further sign of Bilbo. In a way, it was reassuring; surely if Thranduil had no intention of accepting a deal, Bilbo would already have been locked away. Yet Alaisia could not help but fret as the time dragged on.

_Please let this work,_ Alaisia wished as she paced back and forth in her cell, contemplating her options if Bilbo’s plan failed.

She was so caught up in considering alternative plans that she did not notice a guard had appeared outside her cell until the door clicked open.

“Alaisia Glavrem,” the musical voice of an Elf called, “the King has requested your presence.”

Alaisia’s heart thudded anxiously. She hoped that the summons would bring welcome news, but such an outcome was by no means certain. She stepped out of her cell, blinking owlishly at the brightness of the torches in the hall, and saw Thorin exit his cell.

“Thorin!” Alaisia exclaimed, overjoyed to see her husband after so much time passed apart. She ran to him and embraced him, grateful that this time the Elves did nothing to separate the two of them. Thorin held her tightly to his chest and, as always, the steady _thump_ of his heart soothed Alaisia’s nerves. After a tender kiss, Alaisia drew back to study Thorin’s features.

He did not look well. His face was creased with ill-concealed stress, and the dark shadows that filled the space beneath his eyes spoke volumes. Furthermore, his eyes lacked their usual warmth. Thorin’s exhausted, tense demeanor _could_ be attributed to being held hostage, but Alaisia knew her husband. She could tell something else was weighing on him still, and she suspected it was related to the dragon-sickness.

Knowing that she could not speak freely about her concerns in the presence of the Elves, Alaisia remained silent. She gave Thorin a sympathetic look though, and she brushed a stray lock of his raven hair tenderly back behind his ear. He smiled gratefully and kissed Alaisia’s cheek softly, his lips rough and chapped but still familiar and comforting.

One of the Elves huffed disapprovingly. “That is quite enough. Someone wishes to speak with you before you meet with King Thranduil. ‘Tis best you do not keep our King waiting.”

Thorin glared daggers at the Elf who spoke. Alaisia squeezed Thorin’s hand and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, a silent statement that it was not worth getting into a row with an Elf at this particular moment.

“Who wishes to speak to us?” Thorin gruffly asked.

“I do,” Bilbo answered cheerfully as he rounded a corner in the dungeon hallway.

Alaisia was overjoyed to see the Hobbit unscathed and unfettered. “Bilbo! It seems your plan has worked thus far. Thank you.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “Aye, thank you Bilbo. How did you manage it?”

Bilbo beamed. “I appeared right in front of Thranduil, causing him quite a fright, and told him in no uncertain terms that it was in his best interest to accept the deal I was about to offer him. Thranduil could either take the trade of the Gems of Lasgalen for your freedom, or I would free you all myself and he would be left empty-handed,” Bilbo declared.

“Excellent,” Thorin commended Bilbo, clapping him on the shoulder. “What did Thranduil say to that?”

“Aye, did he agree? Is that why the guards brought us out of our cells?” Alaisia asked.

Bilbo’s confident expression faltered slightly. “Not _exactly_. Thranduil’s interest was more than piqued by my offer, but he insisted on holding a meeting with the two of you first. Maybe he still has some concerns to address; I must say, he was not exactly the most forthcoming individual.”

“I’ll show him some concerns,” Thorin growled, clenching his fist. “We are very generous to be bartering for our freedom already. What more does Thranduil want from us? If he wants any of our gold, he had better supply troops to help us slay Smaug.”

Bilbo _tsked_. “That is _precisely_ the sort of behavior I came to warn you about ere you meet with the Elvenking! If you are openly hostile toward him, justified though your hostility might be, you are likely to end up right where you were moments ago: locked behind bars.”

Thorin _harrumphed_. “Very well, then,” Thorin replied, “let us see what exactly the Elf-rat demands of us in exchange for our freedom.”

Alaisia shot Thorin a warning look, causing him to raise his hands placatingly.

“I am simply getting the intense urge to malign Thranduil out of my system now so that I will not snap when we meet with him,” Thorin explained.

Shaking her head slightly, and more than a little skeptical that the upcoming meeting would end well, Alaisia trailed after the guards with Thorin and Bilbo. The Elves led the two dwarves and lone Hobbit to an opulent, secluded chamber adorned with tapestries and furnished with a grand oak table draped in silk. Thranduil sat at the head of the table with Legolas to his right and Tauriel to his left. Thorin, Alaisia, and Bilbo seated themselves at the opposite end of the table.

"I have heard that you had a change of heart, and that you have now decided to actually cooperate. May the stars rejoice," Thranduil began, a hint of bemused sarcasm seeping into his voice.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alaisia saw Thorin tense. _Uh-oh, I know that expression_ , Alaisia thought worriedly. Thorin looked as if he'd just swallowed something bitter. Judging by the smirk that graced Thranduil's face, Thorin's internal struggle to not lash out had not escaped the Elvenking's notice. Mercifully, Thorin decided to hold his tongue. He looked to Alaisia to speak, evidently not trusting himself to refrain from snapping at Thranduil just yet.

"We are most grateful that you agreed to an audience with us. However, the terms seem quite clear to me: your Gems of Lasgalen for our freedom. What more do you wish to know ere you decide to free us?" Alaisia addressed Thranduil, careful to strike a balance between being direct and being as deferential as she could stomach without retching all over the table.

"I do have a question, one that _seems_ simple but may not have a simple answer. Why do you wish to retake Erebor now? Is it more than a mere lust for gold?" Thranduil questioned.

Thorin straightened his shoulders. "It is. We wish to reclaim Erebor first and foremost because it is our home." He paused and cast a questioning look at Alaisia, who nodded encouragingly. "Second, Gandalf, who accompanied us on our quest until we entered your forest, informed us of a potential alliance between the Necromancer and Smaug. Were such an alliance allowed to develop, it could spell disaster for not only this region but also for Middle-earth more broadly."

Thranduil's expression grew icy. "Those are grave tidings indeed. The Necromancer has plagued me for years—that being's entrance into my forest began a spiral of decay." He fell silent for a moment, his face contemplative. "I will permit you to continue on your way. You shall have all of your weapons and other belongings returned to you, along with a modest amount of food."

"And in return?" Thorin asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised. Neither he nor Alaisia fully trusted Thranduil to offer a simple deal.

Thranduil smiled sharply. "In return, you will return my wife's gems to me as soon as you are able to. Legolas and Tauriel shall travel with you to ensure that you do not renege on this agreement, though I forbid them from entering Erebor or drawing too near to it while Smaug still draws breath."

Alaisia looked to Legolas and Tauriel for their reactions to this news. They looked surprised, though not displeased, at Thranduil's announcement that they were to accompany the Dwarves.

"Thank you for agreeing to our terms," Bilbo acknowledged, offering a warm smile to the Elvenking. "I hope that this may mark the first step toward mending relations between your people and the Dwarves of Erebor.”

Thranduil raised a stern eyebrow. “Perhaps I have not made myself clear. Though I am willing to let you all go in exchange for the return of items that are precious to me beyond measure, I _cannot_ give your quest my blessing. Should you fail to eliminate Smaug, it is very likely that the dragon will set his sights on another target, whether that be Lake-town or my kingdom.”

Thranduil paused here to allow his words to sink in. Alaisia said nothing; after all, she shared Thranduil’s fears that the quest to reclaim Erebor might rouse Smaug to deadly action. Gandalf, Thorin, and herself had all decided such an outcome was worth the risk given the alternative of Smaug allying himself with the Necromancer, but it was understandable that others might not agree.

The Elvenking stared coldly at Thorin as he rose from the table. “Let all who are present bear witness to this promise: if Smaug assails my kingdom, I will not hesitate to strike back against you and yours, Oakenshield,” Thranduil vowed. “Not even your cousin Dain will be able to save you then.”

“It will not come to that,” Thorin bit out through clenched teeth.

“So you say,” Thranduil murmured with a shrug of his shoulders. He swept out of the room with nary a further word.

* * *

**Thorin’s POV**

After the rather tense meeting, the Elvenking held true to his word that he would free the other Dwarves from their prison cells. Upon their release, the Dwarves all effusively praised Bilbo for his ingenuity and strategic communication with Thranduil. It was decided that the Dwarves would linger a few days ere their departure, long enough to notify the Master of Lake-town of the incoming party and to arrange passage. Thranduil wasted no time in sending a lone messenger to Lake-town, for he was quite eager to be rid of Thorin’s Company. During the Dwarves’ remaining time in Thranduil’s halls, Legolas and Tauriel arranged for them to reside in the guest quarters.

Thorin was uneasy at the prospect of spending any more time in the Greenwood than absolutely necessary, for it seemed to him that Thranduil could just as easily withdraw his support and resume the Dwarves’ imprisonment. Furthermore, he was impatient and eager to get on with his quest. So much time already had been wasted, time that could have been spent searching for the hidden door on the side of Erebor. Yet he could not deny that his fellow Dwarves needed to rest and recover their vigor after being cooped up in cells. Once all of the Company’s gear was returned, Thorin relaxed somewhat.

_If Thranduil intended to betray us, he would not have armed us once more_.

One of the very first things that Thorin did once his freedom appeared assured was take a long bath with Alaisia. It was not as romantic as their bath in Rivendell, for they spent much of the time working the last remnants of web out of each other’s hair. They had been afforded washbasins only, not proper baths, upon their initial arrival, so they had been unable to fully clean themselves. To Thorin’s pleasant surprise, brushes, soap, and scrubbing cloths were all provided.

“I feel so much better now,” Alaisia murmured, leaning back against Thorin as she sat between his legs in the tub.

Thorin nuzzled the top of Alaisia’s head with his chin and laced his arms around her midsection, pulling her closer to his chest. “Aye, I do to. I will feel better still when we leave this place.” Even a nice, warm, cleansing bath would not make Thorin fond of the Woodland Realm. The place made his skin crawl.

Alaisia laughed and turned in the water so that she straddled Thorin’s lap. She threaded her hands in his hair, leaned in, and kissed him tenderly, her lips soft and sweet against his own. Thorin’s hands spread over Alaisia’s back, stroking the ridge of her shoulder blades and caressing the tight muscles along her back.

“I love you,” Thorin huskily said as Alaisia shifted her attention to his neck, placing light kisses along his collarbone.

“I love you too, Thorin,” Alaisia returned, her voice quiet and contented.

It was _almost_ enough to make Thorin forget about his worries, to forget about the nightmares that had continued to plague him. He tried to dispel the unpleasant thoughts, but Alaisia knew him too well and noticed the shift in his demeanor almost instantly. An unspoken question flickered in her eyes, and Thorin nodded silently to it.

_She knows_ , Thorin thought. Neither of them had to say anything. What Thorin did not say, and what Alaisia likely did not know, was that he was starting to think of the treasure more often in his waking hours as well. Yes, there were memories of his upbringing at Erebor with Dis and Frerin, memories of happier times as a family before his grandfather’s sickness. But alongside these were recollections of the vast amount of wealth in Erebor waiting to be claimed and put to good use.

_It is not a bad thing to think fondly of the treasure that is my birthright_ , Thorin reasoned, _that alone does not constitute dragon sickness, nor will it alone make me fall._

He offered Alaisia a small, hopefully reassuring smile. Her look of concern lingered, but she simply rubbed Thorin’s cheek with her thumb and wrapped her arms snugly around him. They lingered like that for a while, drawing comfort from each other’s presence, until the water started to chill and they were forced to clothe themselves.

Over the next couple of days, the Dwarves settled into an uneasy routine. For the most part, they steered clear of the Elves. The exceptions to this were Ori, who was determined to sketch as much of the Woodland Realm in his now-worn notebook as possible; Alaisia, who avoided Thranduil like the plague but was warm to the other Elves; and Kili, who was drawn to Tauriel like a moth to flame. Thorin’s heart ached watching the pair of them, for it was obvious that the two were quite smitten with one another. He simply could not see it ending well. The two certainly had his approval as well as Alaisia’s (she and Tauriel had become fast friends), but Thorin fretted about Thranduil.

The day before the Company was due to depart, Thorin sat at the edge of a courtyard watching Tauriel show Kili how the Elves of the Greenwood crafted arrows. Her lithe fingers gently guided Kili’s hands through the motions of carving and fletching arrows. Kili was only half paying attention to the arrow he was making, for he was much more interested in Tauriel. She laughed melodically at a joke Kili made, her hands lightly landing on his shoulder.

To Thorin, it was a wholesome and heartwarming scene. He sorely missed Dis and very much wished that his sister were here to see this, for he knew she would be practically jumping for joy. He also thought that Dis and Tauriel would get along well; both were inclined to be free-spirited and stubborn in equal measure.

The scene landed quite differently for Thranduil. He _tsked_ as he strode up behind Thorin, shaking his head as he looked down at Tauriel and Kili.

“I take it you do not approve,” Thorin observed.

“You _do_ approve?” Thranduil asked, looking somewhat scandalized. “The Children of Illuvatar do not belong with the Children of Aule. Your nephew seems a kindhearted lad, I will grant him that, but he is still mortal, and Tauriel is not. I would not have my niece waste her heart on one who will inevitably break it.”

Thorin bit the inside of his cheek, fuming silently at Thranduil’s words. Even though the Company’s departure was set for the next day, he still worried that the wrong words to Thranduil would land everyone back in the dungeons. Yet he could not allow Thranduil’s harsh words to linger in the air unchallenged.

“Perhaps Tauriel herself should be the judge of what does and does not constitute a ‘waste’ of her heart,” Thorin bluntly suggested. “All I want for each of my nephews, all I’ve _ever_ truly wanted for them, is for them to be content. Surely you want the same for your niece?”

Thorin smiled then, _almost_ condescendingly, and walked away ere Thranduil had a chance to respond. From the _whooshing_ of satin and silk, Thorin knew Thranduil had turned to watch his departure. He imagined the Elvenking likely had an indignant look on his face, or that he was glaring petulantly, but he did not glance back to see.

When the time came for the Company to depart the Woodland Realm, they were given a small supply of food and fresh water. A small retinue of Elf warriors were selected to accompany them to the edge of Mirkwood. The messenger had not returned, but Thranduil was relatively unconcerned with that, for he assumed the Elf was lingering in Lake-town as a guest of the Master ere his return.

“Be careful,” Thranduil commanded Legolas and Tauriel as he bade them farewell.

“I will, _Ada_ ,” Legolas assured him. Thranduil still looked pensive, but he inclined his head in farewell.

If someone had told Thorin several weeks ago that he would be relieved to see the boughs of the trees in Mirkwood, he would have cursed and called them insane. Now, though, Thorin breathed a sigh of relief as he exited the heavy doors to the Woodland Realm and saw the forest stretch out before him. It meant he would soon be rid of this place. Next to him, Alaisia also looked excited to leave. She wore a broad grin on her face as she took in the forest air.

Not all of the Dwarves shared this sentiment, though. Even though entering the forest again meant moving on, Dwalin was none too thrilled to be back under the trees.

“At least this time we shall not get lost,” Bilbo told Dwalin in an effort to cheer the guardsman up.

Dwalin nodded reluctantly. “Aye, that is a small comfort,” he agreed.

Bombur also looked somewhat forlorn. After the Dwarves were released from the dungeons, they were treated to excellent food ere their departure. Bombur had spoken glowingly of how closely it resembled his dreams. In good spirits, Bofur jokingly called him a prophet of provisions.

Mercifully, Thranduil’s realm was not far removed from the edge of the forest. On the relatively short walk, Thorin and Alaisia stayed near Legolas and Tauriel, asking them questions about what was to come.

“Tell me about the Master of Lake-town,” Thorin asked the two Elves. “When last Alaisia and I saw Lake-town, it was decades ago, immediately after we fled Dale and Erebor.”

_And the people there turned their backs on us, just as Thranduil did_ , Thorin bitterly recalled. _Though they were more than happy to take our gold when our kingdom prospered…_

“He fancies himself a fine and savvy man of business. In truth, he is merely greedy and unpleasant,” Tauriel answered quickly. “He cares little for the plight of his people and their suffering.”

Legolas nodded at his cousin’s answer, his eyebrows drawn finely together in a frown. “I agree with Tauriel. There is little, if anything, of merit in the Master’s character. For my part, I feel neither fondness nor respect for him. But he is a useful trading partner to my father, so I remain civil for the sake of diplomacy.”

Thorin sighed. For the sake of expediency, he had hoped that the Master might be a more reasonable fellow, or at the very least not a particularly greedy individual. Knowing that the Master was motivated by wealth concerned Thorin.

_I wonder how much of our fortune we will have to part with to appease the Master,_ Thorin thought darkly.

“What about Bard?” Alaisia asked. “Is he a lackey of the Master?”

In the letter carried by the messenger, Thranduil requested that Bard sail the Company, Legolas, and Tauriel into Lake-town. The Dwarves and Bilbo knew little of Bard thus far, only that he was responsible for bringing empty barrels back to Lake-town and that he had sometimes ferried visiting Elves into the town in the past. They also knew that while the letter informed the Master of the purpose of their quest, the letter had instructed the Master to not tell anyone else, including Bard.

“Thankfully not!” Tauriel answered cheerfully. “Bard is the exact opposite of the Master. He is a man of noble character who truly cares about his fellow citizens. And unlike the Master, Bard is no stranger to adversity. He lost his wife several years ago and is a single father to three children.”

A pang went through Thorin’s heart upon hearing that. He reached for Alaisia’s hand and squeezed it, thinking of how heartbroken he would be if he lost her. She squeezed his hand back and brushed her shoulder against his as the pair continued walking.

Alaisia looked as if she was about to respond when the group reached the edge of the tree line. Legolas motioned for everyone to follow, and they stepped out onto a rocky slope that abutted a rushing river. Thorin squinted for a few moments until his eyes adjusted, for the sunlight seemed harsh after so much time spent in the forest and underground.

His eyes slammed open upon hearing Legolas’ sharp inhale.

“No!” Legolas exclaimed, rushing forward to a shape on the ground. It was too far away for Thorin’s eyes to make out what it was, though it looked like a bundle of green and brown cloth.

_Is that…_ Thorin wondered, unwilling to complete the thought until he saw with his own eyes. He and his comrades chased after Legolas and the other Elves as fast as their legs could carry them. When Thorin drew closer, he saw that his worst fears were confirmed.

On the ground was the crumpled, bloodied, and partially dismembered corpse of the messenger Thranduil sent.

Alaisia gasped and covered her mouth in horror. Bilbo looked as green as one of the hills of The Shire, and he quickly turned away as Balin kindly patted his back. Thorin swore, recognizing the brutality as the mark of an Orc’s work. Though he had not particularly warmed to Thranduil’s folk, it pained Thorin to see an immortal Elf’s life cut short so cruelly.

Tauriel knelt down gently and closed the messenger’s eyes as tears brimmed in her own eyes. All of the Elves appeared grief-stricken and horrified, though some of the warriors had turned their attention to scanning the area for any sign of a threat.

“We need to know if the message was delivered,” Legolas finally said after a few moments of silence. “And then he must be brought back to the Woodland Realm for burial,” he added, looking to one of the warriors who had accompanied the group.

Tauriel carefully eased the blood-soaked bag the Elf carried out from under his body and opened it, rifling through its contents.

“The letter is gone,” she whispered, looking up at Legolas.

“So, he either delivered the message and was slain on his way back, or the message was taken by whoever killed him,” Thorin muttered.

“Prince Legolas!” An Elf called out. “I see a ship sailing up the river from the lake.”

Legolas looked in the direction the Elf described. “That is Bard’s ship. From that, I assume the letter was delivered—which means this murder was recent,” he gravely assessed.

As if in response to Legolas’ words, a crude and unharmonious horn sounded loudly from the trees.

“Orcs,” Tauriel spat, her face filled with disgust as she nocked an arrow on her bow.

Thorin swore and drew Orcrist from its sheath as a horde of Orcs started pouring forth from the forest on both sides of the river.

“We must fight together!” Legolas called out to his Elf warriors, who drew their swords and bows swiftly.

“Aye, we stand a much better chance if we fight together!” Alaisia agreed.

She and Kili aimed their bows at the Orcs, ready to shoot as soon as they were in range. The other Dwarves all drew their weapons and stood near one another, ready to face the onslaught of Orcs.

Elven bows sang out first as finely crafted arrows soared through the air and landed with satisfying _thwacks_ in the meaty flesh of the Orcs. Alaisia and Kili, whose bows had a slightly shorter range, followed as soon as they were able. Arrows did not work for long, though, for the Orcs closed in quickly. They used the corpses of their fellow Orcs as cover to get closer to the Elves, Dwarves, and Bilbo. Soon, all were fighting hand-to-hand in close range.

Legolas had ensured all of the Company’s armor was mended where needed ere departing the Greenwood. At the time, it was meant as a gesture of goodwill and also as an apology for his father’s actions. Now, as an Orc tried to pummel Thorin with the hilt of its sword (if you could properly call it that, it was very crudely crafted), Thorin was _very_ grateful for the repair of his armor. It had been somewhat damaged over the course of the quest, particularly by Bolg and his Warg. Thorin drove Orcrist deep into the Orc trying to beat him, withdrew the blade, then slashed across the Orc’s neck.

Another Orc charged up, this time with a mace, and swung it at Thorin with all its might. Thorin spun and ducked to dodge the blow then slammed his sword upward into the Orc’s chest. It crumpled to the ground with a heavy _thud_. Kili and Tauriel were fighting side by side, Kili with a sword and Tauriel with twin fighting knives. Together, the two were slicing through Orcs as deftly as a knife through soft butter.

It reminded Thorin of how he and Alaisia fought in battle.

He looked to Alaisia, who punched an Orc before slicing her blade across its poorly armored chest. Another Orc came up behind her as she was fighting, so Thorin surged forward and blocked its blade with Orcrist. He pushed back and slammed Orcrist into his foe’s sword again then kicked the Orc in the groin. Doubled over in pain, the Orc was then easy to finish off with a simple stab. Behind him, he heard Alaisia grunt as she kicked an Orc corpse off of her blade. She spun and cut another Orc with it immediately after, first striking the Orc’s axe-wielding arm, then slashing its gut.

Elsewhere on the battlefield, Fili joined his brother and Tauriel in combat, his own approach with short swords complementary to, but distinct from, Tauriel’s. A seasoned warrior and veteran of the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs, Balin demolished Orc after Orc with ease. Dwalin growled and charged into a cluster of Orcs, swinging his dual fighting axes like a true barbarian and causing a few Orcs to flee with his fierce, snarling expression. Bifur adopted a similar approach, but in his case, he charged headfirst into foes with the axe embedded in his head. It was an effective maneuver against unsuspecting Orcs, but it left him vulnerable to the side, so Bofur and Bombur provided cover for him.

Legolas fought acrobatically, moving with a certain lightness that made his strikes deadly but his movements impossible to fully follow. The Elf deftly leapt over a pile of Orc corpses and slashed first forward, then backward, with one of his long knives to kill the Orcs that flanked him. Another Orc approached though, one that Legolas did not see as he was focused on the other two Orcs, and it raised its sword threateningly. Alarmed, Thorin threw a dagger at the Orc’s neck. The dagger lodged deeply in the creature’s neck, and Legolas turned just in time to see the Orc fall.

“Thank you,” Legolas said with a grateful tilt of his head.

Thorin nodded. “You’re welcome,” he called out, offering the Elf a fleeting smile.

“Help!” A frantic voice cried out suddenly.

Thorin recognized it immediately as Ori’s. He looked up, having just finished off another Orc, and saw Ori being grappled and dragged away by an especially large Orc. None of the Dwarves were close enough to help, but Bilbo heard Ori’s cry and charged forward. He disappeared, no doubt due to the mysterious object he told Thorin and Alaisia about, and shortly thereafter the Orc holding Ori howled in pain and fell to the ground. Bilbo appeared behind the Orc’s body and patted a terrified Ori on the shoulder comfortingly as Nori and Dori managed to extricate themselves from the thick of combat to rush over to their brother.

Though the Orcs were numerous, they were no match for the combined forces of the Elves and the Company. The Orcs were soon vanquished, save one which Legolas ordered to be kept alive for questioning. One of the Elf warriors bound and gagged the Orc for transport back to the Woodland Realm.

“Look, Bard’s ship has docked down there now by the rocks!” Bilbo called out excitedly, pointing to the distant river shore at the base of the rocky slope.

Tauriel nodded decisively. “Let us waste no time in boarding it.”

“We will escort you there to ensure your safety, and then we shall return to King Thranduil,” one of the warriors offered.

They had all just barely started down the slope when they heard a sudden _whizzing_ sound as an arrow flew through the air and into the neck of one of the Elf warriors. He fell to the ground, sputtering blood and trying desperately to breath, and then perished shortly thereafter.

“More are coming!” Kili called out in alarm, his eyes scanning the tree line as a second horde of Orcs stormed through the trees and into the open.

Tauriel looked at Kili, her face pained. “You must go, for your quest depends on your timeliness. Flee to Bard’s ship. He will get you to safety. Legolas and I will hold off the Orcs as best we can.”

“No!” Kili shook his head emphatically. “There are too many of them, Tauriel.” Quietly, he added “I do not want to leave you.”

Tauriel placed a hand tenderly on Kili’s shoulder. “We will be fine, I promise. We will hold them off long enough for you to escape, and Legolas and I will follow when it is safe to do so.”

Kili still looked hesitant, but Thorin and Alaisia knew time was of the essence.

“Kee, we have to go,” Alaisia murmured reluctantly. “Thank you, Tauriel and Legolas. May the Valar protect you.”

“Do not worry about us!” Legolas exclaimed, releasing three arrows at once to dispatch three encroaching Orcs. “You must run to Bard.”

With that, the members of the Company fled down the rocky slope, the crudely crafted arrows of Orcs _whooshing_ by them as they fled. Some of the arrows just barely missed. Though they were getting closer to Bard’s ship by the minute, Thorin feared they would not reach it fast enough. The Orcs were attempting to advance down the slope after them, the Elves close on their heels.

An arrow flew from in front of the Dwarves over their heads and into the crowd of Orcs, followed quickly by another arrow. Thorin looked at the ship and realized that Bard was firing arrows in an attempt to help the Dwarves and Bilbo escape. Bard was an excellent marksman, for each arrow killed an Orc, and each arrow was swiftly followed by another.

“I assume you are the Dwarves—and Hobbit—King Thranduil requested I transport,” Bard shouted over the din of battle. “Jump into the boat quickly and I will see us off. I can try to hold the Orcs off until you get closer, and then I must ready the boat to relaunch.

Thorin simply kept running. He did not want to waste precious energy trying to respond to Bard; if he made it to the ship, there would be time enough for talking then. The Company drew closer and closer to the boat, and when they reached it Thorin and Alaisia stationed themselves outside it while the others clambered aboard. Thorin and Alaisia both drew their bows and shot as many Orcs as they could in an effort to buy some time.

When Kili drew up next to them, he also started shooting at Orcs.

“Kili, no!” Alaisia exclaimed. “Please get on the boat. Thorin and I can handle this.”

“I won’t leave you two to fight alone!” Kili stubbornly insisted, firing another arrow.

“Kee, get on the boat _now_. That’s an order,” Thorin commanded his nephew, anxious to get him under some form of cover.

Still, Kili refused to budge. But then a projectile came soaring through the air so quickly that Kili, Alaisia, and Thorin had no time to react.

It landed in Kili’s thigh, just above his knee.

“Kili!” Thorin cried out. His nephew fell to the ground, clutching his leg in pain.

“Alaisia, help me get him on the boat,” Thorin asked, his voice tight with emotion.

She nodded wordlessly, still in shock from what just happened, and helped Thorin hoist Kili onto the boat. Once the other Dwarves and Bilbo climbed onto the boat, Thorin and Alaisia followed. Fili sat next to his brother, his face creased in sorrow as he helped Oin wrap Kili’s thigh in a bandage after removing the arrow. Thorin looked back at the scene behind him and roared in anger at what he saw.

Bolg was there.

The Orc sneered at Thorin, waving his bow in the air proudly as if to say _It was me, I shot your nephew_. Tauriel saw this as well and quickly connected the dots. She let out a cry of anger and grief, almost a battle cry, and charged at Bolg at full speed.

Thorin fired an arrow at Bolg but the Orc laughed and dodged it. Tauriel was practically flying down the slope, her bright red hair blazing behind her like a flaming arrow as she zeroed in on Bolg. Yet before she could reach Bolg, other Orcs crowded around him, and the Orc horde ran back into the forest. Tauriel seemed bent on pursuing them, but Legolas caught up to her and pulled her back, restraining her until she stopped trying to give chase. Thorin was silently relieved at that—as fierce a warrior as Tauriel was, even she could not overcome such a large number of Orcs led by Bolg.

Steered by Bard, the ship started drifting down the river back toward the lake. As Thorin looked back at the shore, he saw Legolas and Tauriel watching, their fellow Elves crowded behind them. Thorin lifted a grim hand in farewell and thanks, then turned to check on Kili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! In the next chapter, the Company will arrive in Lake-town and meet the Master there. I plan on posting it by the end of next week. Until then, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story!
> 
> One Elvish translation for this chapter: Ada = "Father" in Elvish (can also use Adar)


	21. Home of the Men of the Lake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin, Alaisia, and the rest of the Company reach Lake-town.

**Thorin’s POV**

“Will he be all right?” Bard asked, his face drawn tight in concern as he looked down at Kili and the bloody bandage around his thigh.

Oin and Fili had removed the arrow in Kili’s upper leg and put a soothing salve on the wound before bandaging it, but Kili would need further care as soon as they were in a secure, stable place. In the interim, Oin gave Kili a sedative to help him rest. Kili was sleeping now, curled up against his Aunt Alaisia, though the slight frown on his face spoke to the pain he was surely still feeling. Fili sat on Kili’s other side, watching his brother intently for any sign of a change in his condition.

“I do not know,” Thorin answered grimly as he looked up at Bard.

Bard stood tall, even by human standards, and had dark hair partially tied back that extended to his shoulders. To enemies, he might seem intimidating due to his somber, intense visage. There was a quiet sorrow to his demeanor though, presumably from the loss of his wife, and also a definite kindness in his eyes. It touched Thorin that this complete stranger cared enough to help fend off the Orcs and that he seemed genuinely worried for Kili’s fate.

_The people of Lake-town are fortunate to have one such as Bard among them_ , Thorin decided.

“Thank you,” Thorin added as an afterthought. “You could have easily sailed straight back to Lake-town and left us there, but you did not. You rescued us, and for that you have our gratitude.”

Bard nodded humbly. “It is a simple life I lead, transporting barrels for the most part and occasionally Elves, but I try to help others whenever I can. Too few look out for others these days,” he murmured.

Thorin got the impression Bard was alluding to the Master. _It seems things are not going well in Lake-town now._ He wondered if Lake-town’s prosperity had dried up when Smaug took Erebor. It was not far-fetched to suppose that, for much of the town’s wealth came from trade with Erebor and Dale in days past. It was difficult to feel much pity for the town’s circumstances, however, even if Bard himself was a sympathetic figure. After all, the people of Lake-town had turned their backs on the Dwarves in their time of need.

Thorin would never forget that.

After a few moments of silence, Bard spoke again. “I was requested by the Elves to transport you to Lake-town, where I hear you are to meet with the Master.” He sighed. “I do not know what business you are in Lake-town on, or where you hail from, but I would advise you to have as little to do with the Master as possible. He is a petty, miserable man, and a callous leader for our people.”

“How did he come to power?” Alaisia asked. She had been silent until now, sitting and stroking Kili’s head worriedly as he slept.

“He came into power through wealth and influence,” Bard answered, “not through the will of the people.” There seemed more that he wished to say, but he thought better of it and fell silent.

As the ship passed the mouth of the river and into the lake, it penetrated a thick layer of fog. Bard excused himself to focus more on steering the ship to avoid obstacles, for he knew these waters like the back of his hand. For his part, Thorin felt increasingly restless. He could not do anything more to help Kili at the present moment, which frustrated him. Furthermore, it struck him now, more than it ever did in Thranduil’s realm, just how close he was to _home_. Erebor was not far, nor were the ruins of Dale. As he looked at Alaisia’s face, he surmised that while she was predominantly concerned about Kili, the thought of Dale and its current state must be weighing as heavily on her as thoughts of Erebor were on him.

They carved through the water in grim silence, unable to see much due to the fog and narrowly sailing around beams that sprouted up haphazardly from the water. It was a sign of decay, or at the very least of poor city planning, that so many objects littered the watery outskirts of the town. After a while, though, some light cut through the fog.

“Durin’s beard!” Balin choked out as he stared into the distance.

Thorin frowned, wondering what his cousin saw, and turned to look in the same direction. There, towering above a small window that cleared in the fog, was the peak of Erebor.

“Our home,” Thorin whispered reverently, so quiet that Bard at the helm could not hear him. The sight brought tears to his eyes. It had been so many years since he last saw the mountain he grew up in, but its appearance had never faded in his mind.

_The last time I saw it, we were fleeing for our lives,_ Thorin reminisced, shuddering at the memory of dragon fire, death, and ruin. Memories of Smaug’s assault on Erebor would haunt him for the rest of his life, that much Thorin was certain of, even _if_ he managed to wrest control of Erebor back from the dragon.

Alaisia also had a reverent look on her face, but it was mingled with something else Thorin couldn’t quite name. She looked away after a few moments and returned her attention to Kili, who was still sleeping peacefully.

“We are close, Kili,” Fili murmured to his brother as he grabbed his hand.

Bilbo walked to Thorin’s side, looking up at Erebor with wonder. Thorin clasped his shoulder.

“I believe in you, Bilbo,” he told the Hobbit. “You will help us return home.”

Bilbo’s expression grew serious. “Thank you, Thorin. I will do my best, on my honor as a Baggins.”

Not long after, the fog knitted back together, and the ship arrived at a dock. Here, the fog lingered higher up in the air, not so close to the water, allowing the group to see the ramshackle town that stretched before them.

“Welcome to Lake-town, or Esgaroth as some still prefer to call it,” Bard told them, gesturing out with his hands. He offered a warm smile to the Dwarves. “I wish you the best in your meeting and in your future endeavors. I hope that your kinsman here recovers,” he added, pointing at Kili. “Now, I must return home to my children.”

“Thank you, Bard,” Alaisia murmured as the man left.

Alaisia and Thorin roused Kili, who was a bit groggy and still in pain but was able to manage a limp with Fili and Oin supporting him. Together, the group disembarked from the boat and made their way down the dock to a rickety wooden plaza. The entire town was constructed on wooden beams and planks to sit above the water. In the days of yore, the buildings were richly painted and sturdy, and the streets buzzed with activity from merchants and townspeople. Now, even though Lake-town never _directly_ faced Smaug’s ire, it was clear that it was still impacted. The streets were quiet save for the occasional passerby and the heavy-footed stomping of guards. The townspeople Thorin did see looked grim, and curious to see Dwarves; a far cry from the hateful expressions on the faces of the Lake-towners who turned away the Dwarves after the sack of Erebor. Some evidence of paint remained on the buildings, but the paint was chipped extensively, and the buildings were dirty.

In direct contrast to this was the appearance of the Master. He was a rotund man dressed opulently in hideously bright colors and rich fabrics that stretched tight over his form. Over his main clothes, he wore a thick fur robe that was equally garish. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and the scent he perfumed himself with choked the air that stretched out before him. A small, rather weaselly looking man and a cohort of well-armed guards accompanied the Master.

"Welcome, welcome my friends!" The Master of Lake-town boomed. "What a delight to have the rightful King and Queen of Erebor in my fine city. You shall have the _finest_ accommodations, if I do say so myself. My own assistant, Alfrid Lickspittle, shall see to your every need."

His voice had a false, saccharine quality to it that set Thorin's teeth on edge. Alfrid looked less than pleased at his new job duties, but he offered a sycophantic smile to the Master when necessary.

"Thank you for welcoming us and for offering us lodging," Thorin answered politely, knowing full well that Thranduil had requested it of the Master and that the Master likely only agreed out of a hope that his coffers might benefit from the arrangement.

"Oh my!" The Master gasped, gesturing at Kili with one hand and covering his mouth with a handkerchief using his other hand. "Is that one ill? I can't have any sickness in my house."

His guards took a half-step forward. Alfrid sneered at the Company.

_Didn't take long for the act of flattery to wane_ , Thorin thought dryly.

"He is not sick with anything contagious," Alaisia answered, her voice carrying a measured sharpness. "As you can see from this bandage on his leg, our nephew Kili was injured. An Orc shot him with an arrow. His current medical treatment was the best we could manage while sailing into your fine town," Alaisia responded.

“Oh…oh yes, of course,” the Master stuttered, clumsily course-correcting from his foolish assumption. “In that case then, you are still most welcome, though I must ask that you make sure he doesn’t bleed all over my silk bedding. All of the guest rooms are furnished with it. Follow along, now. Watch out for the rabble!” He flicked his hand dismissively at a small cluster of townsfolk that had gathered to observe the Dwarves.

“Oi! You heard the Master, didn’t you? Do you need to be told twice Get a move on!” Alfrid jeered at the townsfolk when they did not immediately scatter.

If looks could kill, Alaisia’s glare at the Master would have finished him off thrice over by now. She looked absolutely disgusted with the man. Thorin very much shared Alaisia’s feelings and fervently hoped to make the Company’s stay in this place as short as possible. He would have preferred to not stay with the Master at all, but it seemed there was no other place to stay, for the Master lorded over the town with an iron grip.

As the group followed the Master’s retinue to his seat of power, Thorin paid close heed to his surroundings. He needed to understand this town—its condition, its leadership, and its people—thoroughly, for it existed in close proximity to Erebor. Quite a few of the Lake-towners had tightly drawn faces indicative of a lack of adequate sustenance; others wore threadbare clothes that had been patched over far too many times. Many looked grim, as if all hope had been eradicated long ago, and some cast fearful looks at the guards. The majority of townsfolk drew back from the main walkway and concealed themselves behind market stalls and posts as the Master drew near.

_It is more than simple neglect, then_ , Thorin realized as he noted the reaction of the Lake-towners to their leader. _Everything Legolas, Bard, and Tauriel told me, I see reflected_. Thorin cursed mentally, disgusted that he would have to put up with such a man as the Master ruling a town so near to his kingdom.

A small subset of the Lake-towners were less fearful of the Master, or at least their curiosity regarding the Dwarves outweighed any fear they felt, for they lingered to watch as the Dwarves passed. Thorin heard murmurs more than once about the “Lord of Silver Fountains” and the “King of Carven Stone”. It startled him at first; after all, he had not heard these names used since the time of his grandfather’s reign in Erebor. Somehow the names stuck with the people of Esgaroth over the ensuing decades, presumably passing into legend. Now, as the men and women of Lake-town recalled these names, Thorin thought he saw a small flicker of hope in their faces.

He was not convinced, though, that his retaking of Erebor would change anything for these unfortunate souls.

“At last! We have arrived,” the Master announced to the Company. He wheezed. “That was far too much walking for one as noble as I. Alfrid, surely you can think of a solution that would allow me to travel everywhere in luxury. Perhaps a nice, enclosed seat, padded generously with velvet, that my men could tote me around in?”

“Excellent idea, sire. I’ll look into that straightaway,” Alfrid eagerly agreed.

Thorin suppressed an eye roll. _This man fancies himself a King._ A king of moldy, deteriorating wooden buildings, miserable people, and rotten fish, judging by what Thorin had seen thus far.

The building in front of Thorin—the Master’s residence, apparently—was most certainly _not_ deteriorating. It was an unapologetically gaudy monstrosity that was easily the size of four to six standard buildings combined. Miniature golden statues of the Master adorned the posts at the base of the stairs leading up to the residence, and gilded accents were scattered higgledy-piggledy across the entire exterior of the building as if an artist had done it blindfolded. Gold could be beautiful, that much Thorin recalled from Erebor, but not when used like this. Garish paint colors reminiscent of the Master’s tacky clothes also covered elements of the exterior.

“This is obscene,” Alaisia muttered to Thorin in a hushed whisper, outraged over the opulence before her in contrast to the poverty of many of Lake-town’s residents.

Thorin had to agree. Even in Thror’s time as ruler of Erebor, everyone from the nobles to individual miners deep in the lower levels of the kingdom had their basic needs met and at least a little extra income to spare. He and Alaisia had worked hard to ensure that was true in Dvergatal as well. 

The members of the Company trailed inside after the Master and Alfrid. They found themselves in a grand entryway with a towering ceiling above them and a plush, maroon carpet beneath their feet. Despite the circumstance, Thorin _was_ somewhat relieved to be inside. He knew Bolg and his cronies were undoubtedly somewhere nearby, either at the edge of Mirkwood or perhaps on the shores of the Long Lake, and he was glad for the security being inside brought. As heat from the roaring fireplace gently lapped at him, Thorin also realized how cold he was outside. He was not the only one. Bilbo shivered and sneezed when he entered and immediately drifted closer to the fireplace.

Just as Thorin started to feel a modicum of relaxation seep into his weary bones, he heard an exaggerated sniff.

“My word!” The Master explained, holding his nose. “King Thranduil did not warn me about how terrible you all smelled, and I did not notice it until we stepped inside. The whole town smells, you see,” he complained.

“Why yes, battling against Orcs as we did does tend to impart a certain odor,” Balin answered. “I do apologize for that. We bathed before we left Thranduil’s realm you see, but as Alaisia mentioned we were attacked en route to your lovely home.” Balin said all of this with a genial smile, but Thorin could hear the sarcasm embedded in his tone. It took quite a lot for Balin, who as a rule was the very definition of mannerly, to speak thusly.

The Master frowned at Balin as he tried to work out whether the snowy-haired Dwarf was mocking him.

“Shall I show them to the guest quarters, sire?” Alfrid asked. “I will see to it that they are drawn hot baths.”

“Please do, thank you Alfrid. Come find me in my study when you are done,” the Master answered. He turned to the Company. “You all may rest here for the next few days, for I am a generous man, and I am certain that you all have faced many hardships on your journey here. Ere you depart, we shall have a great feast, one that will show the people of this town that the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of the Lake are dear friends now just as they were in the days of old. My people have been bleating about wanting change and other such nonsense, but they are simply bored. This will provide an interesting diversion.”

_So that is his other motive, then—to use us as part of a publicity stunt, presumably to stave off rebellion._ It rankled Thorin, but he knew that the Company needed more supplies and that Kili needed a safe place to rest. He could tolerate dealing with the Master to achieve those ends, even if he did not like it.

Once everyone had been shown to the guest quarters, Thorin, Alaisia, Oin, and Fili wasted no time in tending to Kili’s injury. Oin rolled out a bedroll from Kili’s pack to cover the bed before placing Kili on top of it, grumbling about the Master caring more about his furnishings than someone’s life, and gingerly unwrapped Kili’s bandage. Kili winced as Oin pried the bandage away from his wound, though the Company’s healer endeavored to be as gentle as possible. Thorin’s teeth clenched together tightly until his jaw hurt. The wound was not festering, which was something to be grateful for he supposed, but it was still oozing blood. Oin shook his head and prodded gently at the lesion, testing its depth.

“Thankfully it is not as deep as it might have been, and no remnants of the arrow are left,” Oin announced, nodding his head approvingly. “You _will_ need stitches, though.”

Kili nodded glumly, and he let out a quiet whimper when Oin poured some alcohol on his injury to sterilize it. Alaisia ground up several herbs with water using Oin’s mortar and pestle to make a pain-relieving remedy for Kili. Kili sputtered at the unpleasant taste but drank it nevertheless, for he was in severe pain. Then, Fili and Thorin helped hold Kili steady as Oin stitched up the arrow wound. When he was done, Oin gently packed an herbal salve over the stitches and secured a fresh bandage around it.

“That’s something I learned from the Elves of Rivendell on our most recent visit there,” he declared, proud of his efforts. “Apparently it helps the skin heal faster.”

“Let us hope that it works. Thank you, Oin,” Thorin murmured, placing a hand on his cousin’s shoulder.

“It is my pleasure to help as always, Thorin,” Oin answered sincerely.

Thorin admired Oin’s dedication to his work as a healer. It was something the Dwarf had picked up in the early days of exile from Erebor, partially out of necessity for many of the fleeing Dwarves were injured from Smaug’s attack or experienced injuries on the road to Dunland. Over the years, Oin had helped countless patients. He was always particularly devoted to Fili, Kili, Eiraisia, and Thornar, for he helped Dis and Alaisia through the birthing process in each case. As Oin was fond of saying, his “wrinkled, homely face was probably the first thing those bairns saw when they came into this world.”

“Of course, Thorin,” Oin answered warmly. “I think Kili will be fine. He just needs rest and plenty of liquids. We should ask for some hearty broth for him, and he should not leave this bed for a full day _at least_.”

“One whole day?!” Kili cried indignantly. He tried to sit up, but he hollered in pain at the effort and fell back down.

“Easy, Kee,” Alaisia whispered, stroking Kili’s forehead in a motherly manner. “You’ve had a serious injury. Rest is what you need now, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” he mumbled, clearly not pleased but unable to deny that his family members were right.

“Don’t worry Kee, I’ll stay and keep you company,” Fili offered.

Oin looked at Fili approvingly. “You are a good lad, Fili. I will come back to check on your brother in a few hours. Let me know if your brother’s condition changes before then.”

Fili nodded and took a seat in a cozy chair in the corner of the room. Thorin and Alaisia lingered for a while, but they left the room to rejoin the rest of the Company once Kili fell asleep. A veritable parade of seamstresses swarmed the guest quarters in the afternoon, taking measurements of the Dwarves and Bilbo for warmer garments and ceremonial clothes for the upcoming feast. Thorin did not care much for the Master’s offer of ceremonial garb, but he _was_ grateful for the offer of additional garments to guard against the cold. While the clothes he and his companions traveled in were by no means thin, they were insufficient to wholly shut out the frigid air of the North.

Though the Master saw to it that his guests were well-fed, Thorin found that he did not have much of an appetite. He forced down as much food as he could, but the memory of Kili’s injury was too fresh on his mind. Thorin succumbed to brooding, though his brooding centered more on Bolg than on the threat of the dragon-sickness.

With a heavy heart and a restless mind, Thorin added more firewood to the fireplace in the room he and Alaisia were to share before bedtime. Deciding that the room was quite warm enough between the roaring fireplace and abundance of blankets on the plush bed, Thorin discarded his shirt for the night. He looked down at his chest to inspect his injuries from his encounter with Bolg on the slopes of the Misty Mountains. While the wounds had all healed, several of the puncture wounds left fresh scars in their wake—visible, taunting reminders that Bolg bested him in combat. Thorin swore under his breath.

Gentle fingers landed on his shoulders then, and Thorin craned his neck to see that Alaisia stood behind him wearing only her tunic. Thorin had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had not even heard her enter. Not yet ready to speak what was on his mind, Thorin turned back to the fire. Alaisia said nothing but quietly started to massage Thorin’s shoulders, then his back, her fingers firmly and lovingly working away the tension. Thorin sighed and leaned back slightly, enjoying the fleeting distraction from his worries.

Alaisia stopped and padded around Thorin until she faced him directly, standing between him and the fireplace. Her eyes briefly flitted down to Thorin’s chest before they met Thorin’s eyes. Thorin looked away. It was certainly not the first time Alaisia had seen the new scars on his chest, but Thorin could not shake a feeling of embarrassment, perhaps because Alaisia had likely seen him brooding ere he noticed her presence. Wordlessly, Alaisia dropped to one knee and kissed each of Thorin’s scars lightly, both the new ones that bothered him so and the old ones from battles of years past. When Alaisia was done, she splayed her hands across Thorin’s chest, her fingers lightly caressing the skin there. She looked at Thorin, her expression filled with love, sympathy, and understanding.

It was a silent invitation to speak of what troubled him, though only when he was ready.

Thorin loved her for it. He leaned in and kissed Alaisia, first on her rosy lips, then on the nape of her neck. The faint flutter of Alaisia’s heart as Thorin placed his hands on the soft curve of her lower back and pulled her flush against him brought a shadow of a smile to Thorin’s face.

“Can we talk in bed?” Thorin asked, his words somewhat muffled as his lips were pressed to Alaisia’s head.

“Of course,” Alaisia answered. She drew back and grabbed Thorin’s hand, leading him to the luxurious bed their room was furnished with.

The two Dwarves snuggled under the covers. Alaisia cast an arm over Thorin and delicately fingered the lines of his back. “What troubles you, my love?”

Thorin swallowed. “Bolg. More specifically, how Bolg attacked Kili.”

Alaisia nodded knowingly. “That has been at the forefront of my thoughts as well.”

“Dis will have our heads,” Thorin grumbled. “And I do not blame her. We should have done more to protect Kili. I wish I had just grabbed him and thrown him on the boat before anything could strike him…” His voice trailed off. “What makes the whole situation even _worse_ is that Bolg deliberately targeted _Kili_ out of a desire to get back at _me_. It…it brought back memories, Alaisia, of Frerin’s death at Bolg’s hands. I was so afraid we were going to lose Kili. Truthfully, I am still worried about his recovery.”

He and Alaisia had visited Kili again shortly before bed, and they found him not much improved. Oin assured them that was to be expected from an injury such as the one Kili faced, that Kili simply needed more rest, but Thorin was still concerned.

Alaisia tucked one of Thorin’s braids behind his ear. "You are not alone in those feelings, Thorin. I also have struggled with guilt over what happened to Kili. Yet hindsight often makes clear circumstances that were decidedly less so in the moment. Everything happened so quickly that I'm not certain we could have done anything differently to protect our nephew." She paused and stroked Thorin's cheek. "I am sorry that this brought back memories of Frerin's slaying, _amralime_."

"It is just so frustrating," Thorin answered. "Here we are, years after the War of the Dwarves and the Orcs, and Frerin's death _still_ has yet to be avenged. And each encounter with Bolg seems stacked decidedly against us. Bolg and his wretched Warg nearly slew me in the Misty Mountains, and now he has made an attempt on Kili's life as well. When will it end? When will we finally gain the upper hand against Bolg?" Thorin asked, his voice rising in frustration. "I worry that Bolg will go after you or Fili next."

Alaisia contemplated that for a moment. "Unfortunately, that is a very realistic possibility. We know that Bolg has absolutely no intention of abandoning his decades-old grudge against our family. Our options are limited at present, but once we have reclaimed Erebor, perhaps we can rally Dain's army to our cause to even the odds against Bolg's forces," Alaisia suggested. “Dain relishes any opportunity to hunt Orcs.”

Thorin knew she was right, that the only way to defeat Bolg was with more warriors, but the prospect of hoping for aid to come from another army (even if it was his cousin’s) made him uneasy. Others had failed Thorin, failed his people, far too often in the past. The prospect of having to wait to take action against the Orcs until after Erebor was reclaimed also concerned Thorin, though he knew there was no realistic alternative given the small size of his Company.

“Let us hope that Mahal will favor us,” Thorin murmured to Alaisia as he gently kissed her forehead. Even as he spoke the words, he was unconvinced by them.

After cuddling in bed in silence for a while longer, the two Dwarves fell into restless sleep. More than once, each arose to check on Kili in the adjacent room to ensure he was soundly sleeping and not in need of emergency care; on one occasion, they found Fili already awake and watching over his brother.

When Thorin did actually sleep, his dreams were filled with dragons, Orcs, fire, and death.

He woke up the next day feeling decidedly unrested. Judging from Alaisia’s shadowed eyes, she felt much the same. The two ate breakfast rather listlessly and only started to feel awake when the last morsels of sausage entered their bellies. Shortly after breakfast, Alaisia and Thorin decided to take a walk along the causeways of Esgaroth, hoping that the stroll would prove a welcome distraction and that the brisk air would reinvigorate them. It was a dreary, overcast day much as the previous one had been. This meant that there was no hope of glimpsing Erebor in the distance, though Thorin’s gaze often drifted in the direction where he knew its peak lingered hidden behind clouds.

To the people of Lake-town, Thorin and Alaisia were curiosities. Evidently even Dwarves from the Iron Hills had not visited the city in years, and many of the town’s residents had never seen a Dwarf according to one affable merchant. Though little to no ill will underlay the stares Thorin and Alaisia received, the attention made them both uncomfortable after a time. They wound their way back to the Master’s mansion, endeavoring to remain as hidden as possible, and were met with quite the surprise when they re-entered the guest quarters.

Kili had emerged from his room, much to Oin’s chagrin, for the healer wished his patient to rest longer. Kili’s spirits were somewhat higher, and he was strong enough to get himself out of the bed and hobble into the gathering room where the rest of the Company had assembled. Yet his condition was fundamentally little improved. As Thorin talked of Erebor, delving into great detail regarding its many passages and halls for the benefit of Bilbo’s upcoming effort to burgle the Arkenstone from Smaug, Kili listened with rapt attention. Kili’s smiles remained forced, though, and a cursory inspection of his face revealed the pain he was still clearly wracked with. More than that, Kili had a concerning pallor to his skin.

Thorin’s concern for his nephew came to a head when the members of the Company descended the stairs to the main level for dinner with the Master and Alfrid. Stubborn to a fault, Kili insisted on making the trip down the stairs on his own legs even though Oin staunchly advised that Kili be carried. Alaisia walked ahead of Kili, worried that her nephew’s stubbornness would lead to injury, and Thorin walked a few paces behind Kili. The first half flight of steps posed only a minor challenge to Kili. His legs were shaky and his pace slow, but he was managing it. However, once Kili passed this point, he encountered trouble. Ere Thorin could react by grabbing Kili, Kili’s injured leg buckled and he tumbled violently forward. Alaisia was able to catch Kili before he tumbled all the way down the steps or hit his head.

“M’sorry,” Kili mumbled to Alaisia, his face sheepish and red with embarrassment over his weakness.

Alaisia hugged her nephew. “There is nothing to apologize for, Kili. None of this is your fault.”

“And there is no shame in asking for help,” Balin kindly added as he appeared on the other side of Alaisia and Kili.

Together, Balin and Alaisia supported Kili’s weight to help him safely reach the bottom of the stairs and into the Master’s dining room. Thorin watched, his face pensive, and made only the minimum polite conversation necessary with the Company’s host over dinner. He observed Kili carefully while the group ate, noting how Kili favored the simple soup and bread over richer foods.

That night, Thorin took a deep breath as soon as he and Alaisia shut the door to their room behind them.

“Kili cannot come with us to Erebor,” he bluntly stated. “He will slow us down or aggravate his injury. If Bolg attacks us between Esgaroth and the Mountain, or if the worst comes to pass and we must flee for our lives from Smaug’s wrath, Kili’s presence will put not only him but the rest of us at risk.”

They were unpleasant words to utter, to say the least. Thorin had told Fili and Kili tales of Erebor from the time they were wee Dwarflings. He _knew_ how desperately each of his nephews longed to see Erebor at last, longed to enter the halls of their forebears. Yet circumstances were what they were, and Thorin was as unwilling to risk the quest that everyone had sacrificed so much for.

Alaisia’s response surprised Thorin, though perhaps it should not have.

“I know,” she whispered. Alaisia walked over to the window overlooking the town. “And that is why I cannot come with you, Thorin.”

Thorin’s eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean? Of course you can come with me. You are my Queen, both of Dvergatal _and_ Erebor.”

Alaisia turned back to look at Thorin, her face wan and her eyes glinting with unshed tears. “I want nothing more than to come with you, _kurdunuh_. I always assumed we would face every step of this journey together. But we cannot deny that circumstances have changed with Kili’s injury. Bolg still draws breath. What is to stop him from entering the town and searching for Kili or the rest of us? Someone must stay to protect our nephew. We cannot trust the Master or his guards with this, for my heart tells me he is fickle and motivated only by self-aggrandizement.”

“That is a valid point, but why does it have to be you?” Thorin countered. “Surely someone else in our Company would be willing to stay behind and watch Kili.”

“I love Fili and Kili as if they were my own children, as I know you do. We promised Dis that we would look after Kili. One of us must stay with him to ensure that promise is kept. It makes more sense for me to do so—I was raised in Dale and recall very little of Erebor, so I am of greater use defending Kili’s life if it comes to that than I am in seeking the Arkenstone.” Alaisia took a half-step toward Thorin. “This is not what I want. I _want_ to come with you. But duty demands otherwise. The second Kili has improved enough to travel safely, we will make our way to Erebor to join you.”

Thorin rubbed a hand over his face, feeling anguished and frustrated in equal measure. He thought of Dis, knowing that Alaisia was right, that Dis _would_ want one of them to stay with Kili. He was not sure if he could face his sister and tell her not only that Kili was shot by the same Orc who killed their brother, but also that he and Alaisia then promptly left Kili behind with someone else in Esgaroth. Aside from the promise he and Alaisia made to Dis, Thorin knew that Alaisia was a far more capable warrior than the other Dwarves with less of a tie to Erebor, such as Bofur or Bombur. Kili would be as safe as possible in Alaisia’s hands.

However, it still pained Thorin that he and Alaisia even found themselves in this position, that they could not take the next step of their journey together.

After several moments of tense silence, Thorin spoke again. “You are right,” he reluctantly admitted to Alaisia. “It is best that you stay here with Kili.”

As soon as the words were out of Thorin’s mouth, Alaisia practically launched herself at Thorin, engulfing him in a tight embrace. She did not need to say anything to explain her actions, for Thorin understood the meaning behind her words.

_I do not want to leave you_ , Alaisia was saying through her hug.

Thorin held her tightly and gently caressed her hair. “I do not want to leave you either, my love,” he murmured.

The couple clung to each other for a long time after that, neither saying anything. Both feared what the coming days would bring, but each Dwarf tried to ignore thoughts regarding the future in an effort to simply enjoy one another’s presence. After a while, the pair relocated to the bed where Thorin curled protectively around Alaisia. Utterly exhausted from the weight of everything they were facing and from sleeping poorly the previous night, both Dwarves slept soundly when their eyelids finally drooped shut.

It was a welcome, albeit brief, respite ere the storm descended upon them once more.

If Thorin had any lingering doubts regarding his decision to leave Kili behind, these doubts were banished by Kili’s condition the next day. Kili had worsened, not improved; he could not move without the help of others, and his already meager appetite from the previous day had further diminished. To Thorin’s surprise, Kili took the news that he was to stay behind relatively well. Kili halfheartedly protested at first but quickly fell silent when another flare of pain shot up his leg, causing him to grimace and clutch his injured thigh.

Oin and Fili insisted on staying behind as well—Oin insisted it was his duty as healer of the Company, and Fili insisted his place was at his brother’s side. Thorin was loath to allow Fili to remain in Esgaroth too, but he eventually consented to the arrangement, figuring that it was best for Dis’ boys to remain together. And it was only temporary, he told himself, for Alaisia, Oin, Fili, and Kili would all make the journey to Erebor as soon as Kili was on the mend. Upon hearing that Kili’s injury still troubled him too much to allow him to travel, the Master agreed to allow Kili, Fili, Oin, and Alaisia to remain as his guests until they were ready to move on. It seemed like a generous gesture, but Thorin was still suspicious of the Master’s motives.

The rest of the Company’s last day in Lake-town was consumed with fittings for the clothes the seamstresses produced for them. Thorin marveled at the speed with which the garments were made. The new clothes fit well and were well-suited to the tastes of the members of the Company. Thorin was particularly grateful that his new gear lacked the garish colors the Master was so fond of. He was outfitted with a regal red cloak lined with fur and adorned with silver clasps. Everyone received scarves, mittens, and cloaks or coats to insulate them against cold temperatures. Even the ceremonial outfits intended for the evening’s farewell feast were not as tacky as Thorin expected them to be.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured to Alaisia upon seeing her in the new, tight-fitting brocade gown of blue and silver one of the seamstresses made for her.

“Thank you, you look handsome as well,” Alaisia answered. She kissed Thorin and rested her forehead against his. “Shall we join the others downstairs?”

Thorin sighed. “I suppose. Let us get this over with.”

Alaisia let out a short laugh at Thorin’s reluctance. “My sentiments exactly, Thorin.”

Neither was eager to endure a ceremonial event full of the Master’s particular brand of pomp and circumstance. They made their way downstairs and to the grand dining hall slowly, and Thorin nearly groaned when they arrived there. Inside the hall, “musicians” were playing a rag-tag variety of instruments to varying degrees of awfulness. A small number of finely dressed people who Thorin assumed must be among the more well-to-do of Lake-town’s merchants crowded around the Master, drinking heavily and heaping praise on him.

Thorin and Alaisia exchanged a glance and reluctantly stepped inside the hall. Two guards on either side blew trumpets on their entrance.

When the Master saw Alaisia and Thorin, he clapped his hands together merrily, though he did not rise from his oversized chair. “Welcome, thrice welcome, King Thorin and Queen Alaisia of Erebor! We are fortunate to have the Lord of Silver Fountains and his Lady as our guests this evening. Come, come sit at my side,” he insisted, gesturing to chairs to his left and right.

Thorin and Alaisia forced polite smiles as each took a chair on opposite sides of the Master, though both were annoyed that they had to sit apart from one another.

Once Thorin, Alaisia, and all the other guests were seated, the Master rose from his seat. “Join me in a toast,” he commanded those gathered. “May this fine evening signal the renewal of a partnership between the Dwarves of Erebor and the Men of Esgaroth, one that will enhance the prosperity of all parties involved. To my people of Lake-town, I say this: remember that I was instrumental in ushering in this new era. Drink now and be merry!”

Alfrid, the merchants, and the guards cheered so loudly that the Dwarves did not need to feign much enthusiasm for the Master’s toast. Over a multi-course dinner, Thorin and Alaisia were drawn into a seemingly never-ending but oft meandering “conversation” with the Master that mostly consisted of the Master bragging about various accomplishments and his own personal wealth. When the Master was not bragging, he spewed out casual insults regarding the intelligence, comportment, and general nature of the people he ruled.

By the time dessert was served, Thorin was emotionally spent. The whole affair had given him a splitting headache. Alaisia looked as if she would rather kiss an Orc than continue to listen to the Master. Looking around, he noted how various members of the Company were faring. Bilbo, Balin, and Ori were engrossed in a quiet conversation. Nearby, Fili and Oin were trying to convince Kili to eat some soup; Kili simply looked miserable. The rest of the Dwarves were in their cups to some degree or another. Some appeared to be engaged in a drinking contest, including Bofur, who appeared to be winning thus far judging by the number of empty mugs strewn around him.

The Master cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Thorin.

_Was he speaking to me?_ Thorin wondered. The blank, confused expression on his face clearly revealed he had not been listening, and the Master _tsked._

“My apologies,” Thorin offered sincerely, embarrassed that he was so distracted that he failed to hear something apparently directed at him. “My mind was elsewhere. Can you repeat what you said? You have my full attention.”

“Ah, of course you were distracted. You are worried about your nephew no doubt,” the Master surmised, his tone suspiciously accommodating. “It is my utmost pleasure to continue to host Kili during his recovery, along with a few more of your companions. Of course, I assume you _will_ return the favor once you are securely ensconced on the grand throne of Erebor again. I have heard much about the fabled wealth of Erebor, after all.”

_There it is_ , Thorin thought of the Master’s words. _An admission of his true intentions—to profit off of our return. He is only helping us because he wants to claim a share of our treasure._

Thorin pondered the matter for a moment, considering whether and how much to pay the Master. He supposed it would only be fair to offer the Master _some_ gold approximately equal to the value of the food, lodging, and clothing the Master provided the Company. Whatever this sum ended up being, Thorin was certain it was less than what the Master had in mind, judging by the greedy glint to the Master’s eyes.

_He looks like a rat eagerly awaiting a wheel of cheese,_ Thorin thought disgustedly. Ere he could respond to the Master, a commotion arose beyond the hall, and the doors to the hall slammed open.

“You have no business entering Erebor!” Bard exclaimed as he stormed in.

“Get this wretched man out of here!” The Master wailed, clearly irritated that Bard interrupted his efforts to persuade Thorin to part with some of Erebor’s treasure.

Alaisia appeared perplexed by Bard’s sudden, furious entrance. For his part, Thorin felt flames of wrath lick at his mind at Bard’s brash demeanor. _How dare he tell me I have no business to enter my kingdom?_

Just as the guards moved to seize Bard, Thorin called out. “Wait! I would hear what this man has to say.”

The Master nodded reluctantly, and the guards backed off ever so slightly, though their spears remained pointed at Bard.

Thorin stood and marched around the table until he was directly opposite of Bard. “Why do you say I have no right to enter my own kingdom?” Thorin growled at Bard.

“When I rescued you and your companions, I did not know who you were. I know now. You are Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, and the rightful King of Erebor. That I do not dispute. However, word travels fast in this small town, and I now also know of the purpose of your quest. You seek to reclaim your homeland, do you not?” Bard asked Thorin.

“We do,” Thorin declared, squaring his shoulders and eyeing Bard coldly. “Yet you still have not answered my question.”

“I have not,” Bard conceded mildly, meeting Thorin’s fierce stare. “You have no right to enter Erebor for doing so is sure to bring Smaug’s wrath down upon us. That accursed dragon will know that you had help from the people of Esgaroth, or at the very least he will strongly suspect it. Mark my words, if you enter Erebor, the Long Lake will burn, and many innocent lives will be lost.”

“A bold and presumptive accusation,” Thorin answered slowly. “Smaug showed no interest in attacking Esgaroth when he laid waste to Erebor and Dale, and Esgaroth was a far grander town then than it is now.”

“That may be so, but dragons are vengeful, petty creatures. My heart tells me that we will not be safe if you proceed as planned. I urge you to reconsider if you care at all for the suffering of others,” Bard earnestly pleaded.

Thorin’s eyes swept the room, observing the reactions of various parties. The Master simply stared at Bard with narrowed, spiteful eyes. Yet some of the guards and merchants of Lake-town were now looking at Thorin suspiciously and murmuring amongst themselves as if they agreed with Bard.

_Bard likely cannot be persuaded, but I need to convince the other Lake-towners in the room_ , Thorin decided. _I cannot risk any threat to my departure_.

“You are noble to show concern over the fate of your fellow citizens, Bard, but I urge _you_ to take care that your unfounded fears do not blind you to opportunity. When I reclaim my throne, I will personally see to it that the trading ties of old that existed between my kingdom and the people of Esgaroth are reforged stronger than ever. Lake-town will no longer be a crumbling city on a lake. It will be restored to its former grandeur, for enough wealth will flow forth from trade to rebuild the city ten times over!” Thorin enthusiastically declared.

This simple promise was enough to win the other people of Lake-town over once more, but it was not enough to sway Bard.

“What does all of that matter if many of the city’s residents perish in a firestorm?” Bard asked, dumbfounded that no one seemed convinced by his argument. He addressed the Master and other Lake-towners directly. “Have you all forgotten the firestorm that swept Dale? Many of us here have ancestors that fled Smaug’s wrath, only narrowly escaping with their lives and the clothes on their back.”

The Master scoffed. “Those are bold words coming from the heir of Girion. Your ancestor had a chance to kill Smaug, but he was too much of a coward. He failed his people and as far as I can tell, _you_ are now following in his footsteps in attempting to deny Esgaroth a chance at returning to its former glory.”

Alaisia shot up from the table, cold wrath sparking in her steely blue eyes. “I was raised in the grand city of Dale, and I was there the day Smaug attacked. Lord Girion risked his life by lingering in the city, foregoing any chance at escaping the flames that consumed its streets. He went to the highest tower where the Dwarvish windlance was set, and from there he fired a black arrow that struck Smaug. That blow was not enough to slay Smaug unfortunately, and Smaug destroyed the tower, killing Lord Girion in the collapse. I was with his wife and son when he perished, I _heard_ their screams of grief when the tower Lord Girion was on crumbled to the ground. Lord Girion was a just man who cared deeply for his people. Do _not_ insult his memory by calling him a coward.”

A hushed silence fell over the room. The Master glared at her, displeased with being called out so harshly and directly. Thorin looked at Alaisia, his expression sympathetic as he met her eyes. He saw fury in her eyes, but behind that he saw a haunted expression that was all too familiar to him. The wound of losing Erebor had never truly healed for him, just as the wound of losing Dale had never healed for Alaisia.

Thorin looked to Bard, who was staring at Alaisia, stunned by what she had said. Bard certainly bore a striking resemblance to Lord Girion, both in his appearance and in his sense of devotion to his people. In the days of old, there was a strong friendship between Erebor and Dale. Each contributed to the other’s prosperity, though the vast wealth of Erebor’s mines was the chief driving force. Many Dwarf families, Alaisia’s included, made Dale their home. In light of all of this, it was most unfortunate that Bard had apparently decided to be an enemy rather than an ally.

Alaisia continued. “Bard, I understand your concerns. I know what it is like to flee a dragon’s wrath, and you must believe me when I say that it is not our intention to bring that wrath down on anyone else. You do not have all the details regarding our quest. Trust me when I say that we _must_ reclaim Erebor and slay Smaug, and the sooner we do so, the better. If any harm comes to Lake-town, I give you my word as Queen that we will help its people rebuild.” Her tone was gentle, collaborative even, without any trace of the anger it held moments before.

Thorin gave Alaisia a nod of approval, pleased with her response even if he remained unconvinced that it would alter Bard’s opinion. He agreed with Alaisia that they had a duty to help the people of Esgaroth if Smaug assailed the city. After all, Thorin knew what it felt like to be denied aid by those able to give it, as both Thranduil and the men of Esgaroth denied the Dwarf refugees help years ago. Though Thorin still harbored a grudge, he was determined to not make the same error of judgment.

“And I give you my word as King that we will help rebuild Lake-town if it comes to that, which I again assure you it will not,” Thorin declared.

Bard looked between Thorin and Alaisia. “I appreciate that offer, and I know your intentions are undoubtedly just. Still, I would plead with you to reconsider. Not a single soul has strayed near Erebor in years, and it is for that reason that Smaug has lingered in his lair. Your actions risk bringing fire and blood to us all. And even the Lord of Silver Fountains lacks the ability to resurrect the dead,” Bard solemnly declared.

“I have heard enough of this rabble-rouser!” The Master interjected. “Guards, seize him and throw him out!”

The guards surrounding Bard closed in on him and hauled him bodily from the room, though it took several guards to do so as he did not leave without a fight.

Once the doors to the hall were firmly shut, and more guards were stationed at them, the Master addressed the group. “That was a most unpleasant interruption, if I do say so myself. Carry on with your merrymaking if you wish!”

Thorin immediately returned to his chair by Alaisia and the Master. The Master appeared sullen, no doubt still pouting about being (rightfully) criticized by Alaisia a short while ago, but he perked up when Thorin took a seat.

“Please do correct me if I am wrong, but from your words to that peasant I gather you _are_ committed to restoring trade between Erebor and Esgaroth?” The Master asked Thorin.

Working with the Master was quite possibly the _last_ thing Thorin wanted to do. However, being a King brought many responsibilities, some inherently unpleasant. Restoring trade with Lake-town was one of those responsibilities. Besides, Thorin had already agreed to it during his dispute with Bard.

“Yes,” he confirmed, careful to banish any trace of reluctance from his voice.

“Excellent, excellent!” The Master cheerfully responded. “And as for the matter we were starting to discuss before that awful commoner interrupted us-”

“When we have restored our kingdom, rest assured that you shall receive payment commensurate to the assistance that you offered us,” Thorin offered curtly. “Does that satisfy you?”

The Master looked positively giddy at that. He smiled at Thorin, revealing a mouth chock full of yellowed teeth. “Yes, yes of course. I am glad that we have come to an agreement from one lord to another.”

Thorin fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Does this man seriously think that his position is similar to my own?_

Instead of expressing his disbelief, Thorin simply nodded stiffly. By that point, he was wholly done with the feast and wanted nothing more than to return to the room he shared with Alaisia. Mercifully, the Master retired to his study shortly thereafter citing some urgent business to attend to. Almost as soon as the Master departed, Thorin and Alaisia rose from their chairs, each Dwarf breathing a sigh of relief.

Thorin extended an arm to Alaisia. “Shall we head upstairs?” He asked hopefully.

Alaisia smiled and laced her arm through Thorin’s. “Yes,” she murmured, nestling into Thorin’s side and leaning her head against his shoulder as the two of them left the feast.

If the two of them were to be parted the next day, Thorin was determined to make the most of their time together that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be ready to post the next chapter in 2 weeks. It will be a long one, probably over 10k words, and it will be told from Alaisia's perspective. Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Translations:  
> Amralime = my love  
> Kurdunuh = my heart


	22. Girion's Heir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin departs Lake-town with much of the Company. With Kili's condition worsening, Alaisia and her fellow Dwarves who remained behind seek shelter.

**Alaisia’s POV**

Alaisia’s eyes fluttered open ere dawn broke. She smiled to herself as she recalled the events of the previous night. Not the feast of course, for that was a horrid, miserable affair, but what came after. Pleasant memories of Thorin’s lips ghosting over the arch of her spine, his hands skillfully massaging the flesh of her inner thighs, and the sound of him calling out her name as he climaxed flooded Alaisia’s mind.

Both Dwarves were almost desperate in their lovemaking, for they knew it was the last chance they would have for some time.

Thorin and Alaisia were both still naked in the morning, though they had drifted apart at some point during the night. Alaisia turned on her side and propped herself up on her elbow to face Thorin. Thorin remained sound asleep; his broad, muscular chest was only partially covered by a blanket. His raven hair fanned out around him on the pillow beneath his head, and his breaths came in quiet puffs of air as his chest steadily rose and fell.

Alaisia’s heart ached at the sight, for she knew that Thorin would be gone in a matter of hours.

She had spent much time contemplating her decision to remain behind with Kili, both before announcing it to Thorin and after. Fear that staying with Kili in Esgaroth was the wrong choice dogged Alaisia’s waking moments. This fear was almost invariably followed by profound guilt that she ever even considered leaving Kili. It was a vicious cycle of doubt, one that threatened to draw Alaisia in once more now. Either one of the dual threats of Smaug and Bolg were enough cause for concern, but Alaisia also worried about another, more insidious threat: the vast treasure hoard beneath the Mountain.

Though Thorin had spoken little of the dragon-sickness over these past few days, Alaisia saw and heard enough to know that it was still never far from her husband’s thoughts. She knew Thorin feared the dragon-sickness, knew it plagued his dreams, and she fervently hoped that he would not fall to it.

 _He is not Thror_ , Alaisia told herself. _Thorin is a far nobler Dwarf than Thror ever was. He saw what the dragon-sickness did to his grandfather and swore that he would never succumb to it._

Yet Alaisia could not shake the fear that, in spite of Thorin’s efforts to fight off any hint of the dragon-sickness, he might fall prey to it against his will. She did not entirely understand how it worked, or why it impacted Thorin’s grandfather but seemingly not his father, Thrain. Alaisia _did_ know that Thorin’s demeanor had shifted, both in Thranduil’s Halls and since departing the Woodland Realm. Thorin seemed increasingly impatient to move on with the journey, and he spoke more of the treasure than he used to, though his words regarding Erebor still centered on reclaiming his homeland and eliminating the threat of Smaug.

Ashamed of having even some doubts, Alaisia tried to quash them and said nothing to Thorin of them. If her fears proved without foundation, she did not want to upset him or unwittingly tip him toward succumbing to the dragon-sickness. She sighed and nestled further into the pillow.

Thorin stirred then, though his eyes did not yet open, and he snaked an arm out lazily across the bed, reaching for Alaisia. Without hesitation, Alaisia scooted across the bed toward her husband. His arm found her and pulled her close to his side, and Alaisia traced the smooth, taut planes of Thorin’s pectorals with her fingers.

“G’morning ‘Laisia,” Thorin mumbled sleepily.

“Good morning sweetheart,” Alaisia murmured back, bemused at her husband’s grogginess.

She kissed his cheek first, then his chin, and finally his lips to help wake him. He kissed her back, languidly at first but then with greater earnestness as the fog of sleep receded from him. Feeling mischievous, and wanting to delay Thorin’s inevitable departure however possible, Alaisia withdrew from the kiss. She cast back the covers and straddled Thorin’s hips. Thorin moaned in pleasure when Alaisia ground against him, teasing him, and leaned forward, pressing her chest flush against his.

“If you keep this up, I shall not be able to leave this bed,” Thorin groaned. “I suppose that is the point, though,” he added quietly, his voice filled with sorrow.

Alaisia slid off of Thorin and returned to her former position at his side. She sighed and rested her head on his chest.

“Maybe,” she softly admitted. More than anything, she wished that the bloody secret door did not have to be opened on Durin’s Day, that it could instead be opened on _any_ day. If that were so, the entire Company could linger in Lake-town until Kili’s thigh healed, and then they could all travel to Erebor together. As things currently stood, the very next day was Durin’s Day. Leaving this morning was necessary for Thorin and the others to not only make it to the Mountain, but also to give them sufficient time to locate the door.

“I do not want to leave you either, _amralime_ ,” Thorin whispered, stroking Alaisia’s hair soothingly. “But you and I have discussed this. Kili needs you, darling. You will join us soon enough, and with any luck we will have the Arkenstone by then.”

“It may be longer than we anticipated,” Alaisia noted. “Kili is not regaining his strength. He improved somewhat early on, but his condition is steadily worsening now.” She thought back to how he merely ate a few sips of stew the previous evening.

Alaisia felt the motion of Thorin nodding. “Aye, I know. I am worried about our nephew. Oin is doing all he can, but it does not seem to be enough. I am still hopeful that perhaps all Kili needs is time and rest.”

“True, perhaps it is simply too soon for him to show any genuine improvement,” Alaisia acknowledged. “I keep hoping that Legolas and Tauriel will return. Tauriel told me that she trained extensively in the arts of healing…she might know some way of assisting Kili that Oin and I do not.”

Thorin sighed. “I do not think Legolas and Tauriel plan to return. At least, I do not think Thranduil will _allow_ them to return. As much of an isolationist as Thranduil has become, I am fairly certain that our encounter with Orcs must have spooked him. He may now be doubling down on his efforts to shut his realm to the outside world.”

In her heart, Alaisia suspected there might be more than a bit of truth to Thorin’s supposition.

After lingering in one another’s arms a few moments more, the two Dwarves rose rather reluctantly from their bed and dressed themselves. Alaisia clasped Thorin’s new, luxuriously thick red cloak around his shoulders and smoothed the fabric.

“You look every inch the King of Erebor,” Alaisia murmured proudly as she carded her fingers through Thorin’s soft, wavy hair.

Thorin beamed. “Thank you, my Queen,” he huskily returned.

Together, Thorin and Alaisia made their way downstairs for a quick but nourishing breakfast. The Master’s kitchen staff had laid out an array of sausages, potatoes, bread, butter, bacon, and even some fruit for the members of the Company to dine on ere they left. When everyone was done eating, the Master ushered them outside for the grand farewell. Alaisia was somewhat relieved to note the apparent lack of hostility in the Master’s attitude toward her. Though she did not regret challenging him on the subject of Girion the night before, she had feared her actions might have consequences regarding the Master’s decision to continue to host several members of the Company.

Alaisia squinted when she stepped outside. Gone were the fog and near-constant drizzle of the past two days. The sun shone blindingly in the sky, softening the bitter chill of the air. Bilbo and the Dwarves traveling to Erebor were given two boats to cross the lake in to hasten their journey, and they were assured that ponies awaited them on the opposite shore to carry them the rest of the way to the slopes of Erebor.

 _And to the dragon within,_ Alaisia thought with a shudder.

“Where’s Bofur?” Thorin barked out.

Bombur turned to Thorin. “He’s passed out still; Bifur and I couldn’t rouse him.”

Thorin shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Very well, then. He must remain behind.”

As the members of the Company began the process of bidding those remaining in Lake-town farewell, Dwalin enveloped Alaisia in a bear hug. Balin also gave Alaisia a hug farewell, though it was a gentler one than Dwalin’s. Alaisia drew back and studied the two Dwarves. Though they were her cousins-in-law by marriage, in truth they were more like older brothers. She thought back to when her friendship with them began, years ago when the Dwarves set out for Dunland after Smaug’s attack. Now they had returned to the North.

“Please be careful, both of you,” Alaisia murmured, looking between them. “ _Especially_ you, Dwalin, for I know you sometimes throw caution to the wind.”

Dwalin chuckled heartily.

“Worry not, lass—I shall look after both of us,” Balin replied, nudging his brother’s shoulder.

Alaisia next turned to Bilbo. “Farewell, Bilbo. You are the finest burglar our Company could have asked for. I am so proud of how far you have come on this journey. You have shown us your quick wit and courageous heart more times than I can count, and you have already saved us many times over. The task ahead of you is a dangerous one, but I am confident that if anyone can manage it, it is you, Bilbo. Remember this, though: if it comes down to such a decision, your life matters far more than any stone. Protect yourself and worry about the rest later.”

Alaisia looked at Bilbo sternly as she spoke the last two sentences, watching him to ensure that he understood. He nodded, his face resolute and courageous as ever, but Alaisia saw a hint of fear in his eyes. She leaned in to hug him goodbye. “Everything will be all right, Bilbo.”

Even as she spoke, Alaisia could not be confident that her words would hold true. Yet she wanted to offer some comfort to the Hobbit, some words of reassurance to bolster him for the days to come.

“Thank you, Alaisia, for your confidence. You have been a great friend to me on this quest, and I hope that we will reunite soon,” Bilbo answered.

Finally, Alaisia turned to Thorin, who had just finished saying goodbye to Fili and Kili. Her heart swelled with emotion as she met Thorin’s tender eyes, and she flung her arms around Thorin, embracing him tightly and burying her face in the crook of his neck so that he could not see her tears. He undoubtedly felt them, though, slowly dripping down onto his neck. Alaisia felt Thorin’s tears land lightly in her hair. They held each other for a while until their tears stilled.

“We will see each other again, _amralime_ ,” Thorin promised Alaisia. “This farewell is only fleeting.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.

“I know,” Alaisia murmured, “but I will still sorely miss you while we are parted. If matters take a turn for the worse-”

“They will not,” Thorin interrupted, “and if they do, I will get everyone to safety as best I can, including myself.”

Alaisia nodded, breathing shakily still as she tried to find reassurance in Thorin’s words. When Smaug first attacked Erebor, for a terrible, short span of time Alaisia thought she had lost Thorin. Now, she feared she might truly lose him. She had every confidence in Bilbo’s ability to execute the plan, but nothing was certain when it came to dragons.

“I love you,” Alaisia whispered as she wrapped her arms around Thorin again, inhaling his scent and memorizing the feel of his lips molded against hers. There was much more that she wanted to say, but the words had left her, chased away by sorrow and uncertainty.

“I love you too,” Thorin returned with a final kiss. He drew back and started to make his way to the boat, but he turned toward Alaisia again.

“If…if I do not make it, if Smaug prevails, I want you to return to Dvergatal. You will be safer there. Tell our children I love them, and that I am sorry I could not come home,” Thorin requested.

“I will,” Alaisia choked out. “Goodbye, Thorin.”

“Goodbye, Alaisia,” Thorin answered grimly.

He took a seat at the front of one of the boats, and the other Dwarves and Bilbo followed suit. Soon they were off, rowing into the distance, growing smaller by the minute.

Alaisia felt a fresh wave of tears threaten to flood forth from her eyes. Oin noticed and placed an arm around her shoulders, holding her protectively and patting her arm to comfort her.

“There, there,” he comforted her. “They will be all right, don’t you worry lass.”

“Thank you, Oin,” Alaisia answered, wrapping an arm around him as they, Kili, and Fili watched the boats drift away until their companions disappeared on the horizon.

When they entered the Master’s mansion once more, the Dwarves made their way directly back to the guest quarters and requested that their meals be delivered there. The Master was more than happy to accommodate that request, for he was not very interested in engaging with the Dwarves directly, and he informed them that he had much to do in his study.

“Ruling this rabble takes a lot out of a man,” he grumbled.

Upstairs, Bofur continued to snore and snooze until the early afternoon. He was quite put out when he learned the others had all left without him.

“They couldn’t wake ye!” Oin explained to him. “You were out like a light from all the ale you drank.”

Bofur reluctantly accepted this explanation. The five Dwarves ate a quiet supper in the main gathering room of their quarters, though Kili still lacked much of an appetite. Alaisia had coaxed him into drinking a bowl of broth earlier, but Kili complained that whenever he ate or drank anything his stomach roiled with nausea.

Alaisia’s still held onto _some_ hope that Tauriel and Legolas might come back even if Thranduil was against their coming. Her thoughts also turned to Gandalf, who told the Company ere his departure that he would meet them at the overlook. Would he be there to meet Thorin and the others, or had something detained him? Might Gandalf instead travel first to Esgaroth?

These musings, along with musings on where exactly the others might be in their journey, filled every spare second of Alaisia’s thoughts. Feeling weary, Alaisia retired to bed not long after darkness descended over the town. Durin’s Day featured prominently in her dreams. Some of her dreams were pleasant ones. She recalled the Durin’s Day festivities of Dale in her youth, the humbler Durin’s Days held during her time in Dunland, and the grand celebrations held at Dvergatal.

It was in Dvergatal that her dream veered into a nightmare. She was at Dvergatal, sitting merrily with her children as they watched Dwarf musicians perform, when suddenly a great _crack_ sounded and the ceiling caved in. A bright, searing column of dragon fire burst into the hall. Screams and the scent of blood and burning flesh filled the air. Suddenly, Alaisia could not find Thorin or her children or _anyone_. Everything was dark around her, except for a pair of glowing dragon’s eyes. Smaug opened his maw to unleash a new torrent of fire.

Alaisia startled awake at that moment, gasping for air as she shot up in bed. Her hands twisted in the sheets as she struggled to regain her composure. Though unpleasant dreams about Smaug and dragon fire had haunted her ever since Smaug destroyed Dale, this was the most vivid nightmare she had experienced in a long while.

“My lady—er—Your Grace?” A soft voice asked. Alaisia blinked, recognizing the voice as belonging to Friama, the maid who brought up food to the Dwarves and cleaned their quarters during their stay in the Master’s mansion.

Alaisia was puzzled as to why Friama was here now; after all, it was still mostly dark outside. The first light of dawn was just barely starting to break over the city.

 _I must have screamed in my sleep due to that nightmare,_ Alaisia thought sheepishly. _I hope that I did not wake everyone_.

“Friama,” Alaisia began, “my apologies for hollering out. I was having a nightmare.”

“No, no there weren’t any screams that I heard miss, though I am sorry you had a nightmare. I am here because the Master wants to keep you and your fellow Dwarves as hostages.”

“Hostages?” Alaisia exclaimed in a hushed whisper. She saw Friama nod quickly.

“Aye, miss. He does not fully trust King Thorin to hold true to his word to compensate him and reopen trade. Beyond that, the Master wants even more treasure than what he assumed Thorin was offering. The Master hopes that holding the Queen, along with the two princelings, will convince King Thorin to open his coffers.”

“That miserable rat!” Alaisia bit out. “Oh, I knew the Master was greedy based on what I had seen and heard from others, but to keep us hostage as a way of exploiting my husband…” Her voice trailed off as she seethed. “How did you come to learn this?”

The maid looked sheepish. “Might be that I was eavesdropping some as I swept the floor outside his study. The Master was talking with that little weasel, Alfrid, about his plans. I have no fondness for the Master; he despises us townsfolk, looks down on us. He employs me but pays me barely enough to get by.”

Alaisia’s heart fell. “I am sorry,” she murmured, truly meaning it. She did not like to see others suffer ill treatment.

Friama shook her head. “It’s all right, miss. Now I have a chance to do a good deed and screw the Master over! I am going to help get you and the other Dwarves out of here. That’s why I’m here quite early. We must get out before the sun rises too much.”

“Thank you,” Alaisia gratefully acknowledged, “but where shall we go when we leave? My nephew Kili is sick. We are trying to heal a nasty arrow wound he got, and he is not yet strong enough to travel far.”

“Don’t you worry about that, miss,” Friama reassured her. “I told my best friend, Sigrid, and she told me her dad would take you all in. She’s waiting nearby.”

Alaisia marveled that two strangers, two humans she had never met, were apparently willing to risk their own wellbeing to help her and her fellow Dwarves.

“Thank you, Friama, for doing this. Here,” Alaisia offered Friama some gold from her coin purse.

“Oh, no miss I couldn’t,” Friama said, refusing the money. “I’m not doing this for the money, I’m doing this because it is the right thing to do.”

“I know,” Alaisia answered, “and I appreciate you helping my friends and I. Please, take this. There is not much else that I can do for you right now.”

_But when Thorin and I take back Erebor, I will try to do something more. It is not right that so many here suffer under the rule of a callous, greedy Master without enough clothing to keep them warm and without enough food to fill their bellies._

Friama took the money the second time it was offered, eyeing it reverently and tucking it away in a small purse.

“Thank you,” she smiled at Alaisia. “Now let’s get your friends up and out of this place.”

They woke Oin and Bofur first, then Fili. When they reached Kili, he did not fully stir. He seemed groggy at first, but Alaisia quickly realized that Kili was not fully lucid.

“He is getting worse,” Alaisia whispered to Oin. She draped a hand over Kili’s head, frowning when she felt how hot his head was. “And it seems he has spiked a fever.”

“We cannot do anything for him here,” Oin reluctantly decided. “We should move him first and then see to his injury again.”

Fili and Alaisia carried Kili as the small group quietly crept down the stairs. Friama showed them a back entrance, away from the guards, and the Dwarves slipped out into the night.

“Go east on that causeway there and my friend will find you. Best of luck to you, and I hope that your nephew makes a full recovery!” Friama whispered, gesturing at one of the causeways leading away from the Master’s house.

“Thank you for everything,” Alaisia whispered back. “Without your intervention, we would still be unwitting hostages.”

“’Tis my pleasure. Keep clear of the guards!”

The Dwarves hurriedly set out in the direction Friama referenced, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of guards as well as for any sign of someone who might be Sigrid. As it turned out, Sigrid found them, just as Friama promised. She stepped out of the shadows near a cluster of residential buildings not far from the Master’s residence.

“You must be Queen Alaisia,” Sigrid observed. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, Sigrid,” Alaisia replied, “it is nice to meet you too. And simply Alaisia is fine, there is no need for my title here.”

“Alaisia, then,” Sigrid smiled. She turned to the rest of the Dwarves, who all introduced themselves save Kili.

“My brother is unwell,” Fili explained, telling Sigrid of the injury Kili received en route to Lake-town. “We need to get him somewhere safe so that we can try to help him.”

Sigrid nodded. “Of course,” she murmured, her expression filled with concern when she saw Kili’s poor condition. “Follow me. I will take you to my father’s house, where you may remain as long as you need to.”

Eager to try to stabilize Kili, the Dwarves quickly set out after Sigrid. They followed her light footsteps down causeways and alleys, behind buildings and markets. Alaisia listened intently for any sounds that might indicate the presence of a guard as she helped Fili carry Kili. No guards noticed their passing, though, for Sigrid was sure-footed and swift in guiding the Dwarves. After much walking, they finally came to a humble wooden home that stood on the edge of the water. It looked like a lovingly maintained fisherman’s cottage, thought the paint had long since faded such that only hints of color lingered.

“Let me get the door for you,” Sigrid offered.

Alaisia was so stunned when she saw who was on the other side of the door that she nearly dropped Kili.

“Bard?” She breathed.

 _Oh, dear—when Sigrid asked him if we could stay, did she tell him who we were?_ The last meeting with Bard had been somewhat tense, though the tension was more between Thorin and Bard than between Alaisia and Bard. For her part, Alaisia had no particular quarrel with Bard, other than his lack of understanding of the full rationale behind the quest to reclaim Erebor, which of course was not his fault. However, she deemed it unlikely that Bard would be willing to grant her companions safe harbor considering his perspective on their quest.

“Alaisia,” he greeted with a surprising warmth. “Please, come in. You can lay Kili down on the bed in the corner there.”

Alaisia and the others entered and gently deposited Kili on the bed, making sure to prop up his head with a pillow. Oin immediately started rummaging through his healing supplies, but Alaisia turned back to Bard, a question forming on the tip of her tongue.

 _Why did he welcome us?_ She wondered. He had every reason to deny the Dwarves aid as far as Alaisia could tell, yet here he was, taking on the risk of welcoming all five of them into his home.

Bard noticed Alaisia's confusion. "I still have plenty of concerns regarding your quest, but it is not a habit of mine to deny help to those in need of it. Furthermore, you are a daughter of Dale." His expression softened. "Thank you for defending my ancestor Girion's honor. Far too many wantonly drag his memory through the mud, blaming him for a crisis that was not his making and that he gave his life to try to stop. I am sorry for the loss of your city."

 _He reminds me so much of his ancestor, Lord Girion_ , Alaisia mused. It was not just Bard’s appearance that was strikingly reminiscent of Lord Girion, but also his demeanor and his noble heart.

“Thank you for giving us shelter. I am grateful for your support, Bard,” Alaisia told him. She hesitated. “I need to help my nephew first, but perhaps we can talk after that? Though I understand it might not change your mind, I wish to tell you why we are fighting to reclaim Erebor, and what we hope to achieve when we do so.”

It might not make any difference, but Alaisia felt that she owed this man the truth considering his ancestry and his generous offer of a safe haven from the Master.

Bard regarded her skeptically, but he nodded all the same. Alaisia glanced at Oin to see where he was at in the process of preparing medicine to break Kili’s fever, and what she saw concerned her. Oin was rifling through his medicinal pouch, all of its contents now scattered across the floor, and muttering to himself about the herb he needed. After this searching proved fruitless, he turned the bag inside out and shook it for good measure.

He still did not find what he needed.

“I am missing the herb I need for fever reduction,” Oin groaned. “I had some, but I must have used it all…”

“Feverfew?” Bard asked. When Bard saw Oin nod his head, he opened up a cabinet and rummaged around inside it until he found what he sought. “Is this enough?” Bard asked, holding up a clump of the plant.

Oin’s eyes lit up. “Yes, more than enough! Thank you.”

Now that Oin had everything he needed, he crafted a concoction and administered it to Kili.

“His fever ought to go down over the next few hours now, but we will want to monitor him,” Oin told everyone.

“Try to rest, Kee,” Alaisia murmured to her nephew. She kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair back before tucking him in with a worn blanket.

Alaisia’s head snapped toward the stairs when she heard a ruckus on them.

“Da, can we come downstairs yet?” A boy’s voice asked.

“Yes, you can come downstairs now and meet our guests,” Bard informed him.

Shortly thereafter, a lanky boy with the same tousled hair as Bard and a little girl with Sigrid’s dark blonde curls clambered down the stairs and into Bard’s living room. The boy looked roughly equivalent in age to Alaisia’s twins, but the girl next to him was much younger.

“My children,” Bard explained to Alaisia. “You have already met Sigrid, my eldest; these two are Bain, my middle child, and Tilda, my youngest.”

The Dwarves all introduced themselves, except for Kili, who was still resting on the bed. Alaisia’s heart ached at the sight of all of Bard’s children gathered around him, thinking of her own children miles away in Dvergatal. She had been away from them longer now than she ever had been. She missed their sweet faces, their voices, and simply their reassuring everyday presence.

“Do you and Thorin have children?” Bard asked. “I admit that I first thought Fili and Kili here were yours.”

Alaisia smiled. “Yes, Thorin and I have two children, Eiraisia and Thornar. They are our twins, about the same age as your son Bain by the look of it. My sister-in-law and my parents are watching over them in Dvergatal, our kingdom in the Ered Luin range of the West.”

Bard’s eyes widened. “Already I see that there must be more to your quest than you let on. It must be a grave matter indeed to have pulled you and Thorin away from your children, for I know that cannot have been an easy decision to come to. You alluded to there being another purpose, aside from the obvious one of treasure, behind your quest when you said at the Master’s residence that you _must_ reclaim Erebor. May I ask what you mean by that?

“Of course,” Alaisia murmured, taking a seat at the table in Bard’s kitchen. First, she explained to Bard that while the Mountain did contain much treasure, it was also _home_ to Thorin and many of the other Dwarves. Their exile in Dvergatal was quite comfortable, but it was still exile nonetheless. Then, Alaisia told Bard of Gandalf’s involvement in the quest; of the wizard’s warning of a potential alliance between the Necromancer of Mirkwood and Smaug. Finally, she also decided to tell Bard about Bolg.

A long, tense silence followed Alaisia’s explanation. She waited with bated breath, uncertain if her words would convince Bard of the worthiness of the Dwarves’ cause or if her words would simply frighten him. It was a lot to take in.

 _Perhaps I told him too much all at once_ , Alaisia regretfully pondered.

Bard’s face was grim when he spoke. “I think I understand now why you must reclaim the Kingdom of Erebor, though I still fear the consequences for us here in Lake-town should the effort go awry. So the Orcs that attacked you ere you boarded my boat were led by Bolg, then, or operating under his orders?”

“Aye,” Alaisia confirmed. “The Orc that shot Kili was Bolg.”

She watched Bard closely to gauge his reaction to all that she told him. He definitely appeared troubled, for he rubbed his hand over his forehead and frowned deeply.

“If you no longer wish to host us, I would certainly understand,” Alaisia offered. “There is a chance that those very Orcs might come into Lake-town searching for us.”

Bard shook his head fiercely. “I will not send the five of you out to face Orcs or the Master, especially while Kili is unwell. I said that you could linger here as long as you needed to, and I intend to hold true to that promise. We simply have to remain on our guard.” He sighed and shook his head. “I dare say I have had enough of unpleasant topics. Would you tell me about the city of Dale in its prime?”

“It was a truly magnificent city,” Alaisia began, her voice reverent. “Orchards were scattered like green jewels around Dale, filled with flowers and fresh fruits in the warmer months, and there were many gardens. We had a vibrant marketplace, filled with goods from Men, Dwarves, and sometimes Elves brought in from lands near and far. Grand stone residences were arranged around plazas with fountains and statues at the center. It was chiefly a city of humans, but many Dwarves also made their homes there.”

Alaisia sighed. Speaking of Dale as it had once been, not as the ruin it now existed as in her mind, brought back many happy memories of days past. She yearned now more than ever to return to Dale, to see it made whole once more, though she also dreaded seeing what it had become in the wake of Smaug’s attack.

“It sounds like a marvelous city indeed. ‘Tis a shame it is now abandoned; I should like to have seen it as it was in its prime in the days of old,” Bard murmured sorrowfully.

Alaisia offered him a wan smile. “You may yet see it restored. Thorin always promised that when we finally reclaim Erebor, we will also help restore Dale to its former glory.”

“Is that so?” Bard asked, clearly surprised that Thorin was willing to contribute to such an endeavor. “What will become of Dale when it is restored—will Dwarves settle it, or a combination of Dwarves and Men as in the days before its fall?”

“I assume that, as in the days of old, many Dwarf families might choose to migrate to Dale. But we also hope that humans will return to Dale. That brings me to another point. You are the heir of Lord Girion, and therefore the rightful ruler of Dale. Would you have any interest in ruling?

Bard vehemently shook his head. “I do not care for lording a position over others.”

Alaisia chuckled lightly. “There is so much more to ruling, to being a leader, than that Bard. As Lord or King of Dale, you would have the ability to see to it that your people are well fed, that they have the right to voice their opinions, and that they all have shelter and meaningful work. That is the way in which Thorin and I have governed Dvergatal during our time there, and that is the manner in which we intend to rule Erebor. You do not have to decide now, but please do think on it. From what I have seen of you, I think you would be a good leader, fair and just.”

To Alaisia’s chagrin, Bard appeared unconvinced, though at least he now appeared to be giving the matter some thought. If Bard chose not to take on the mantle of his forebear, that was fine; he was well within his rights to not take on the burden of ruling. Alaisia only wanted to ensure that neither the Master nor anyone like him took over command of her beloved city. She would not see its new inhabitants suffer as the people of Lake-town suffered now.

“When Dale is restored, will you miss living there?” Bard questioned Alaisia.

Alaisia paused, pondering Bard’s question for a long moment and waiting for the threat of tears to dissipate. “Dale will always be my home, just as Erebor is Thorin’s home. I will never stop missing its sunlit streets.” She thought back to her early morning walks, how she used to love to watch the sun rise over the city. “Yet I will make Erebor my new home, for it is my duty as Queen to reside there. Still, I hope to maintain a residence in the city so that it is easy for Thorin and I to visit. Perhaps I can even restore my family’s home, if anything remains of it.”

Alaisia and her fellow Dwarves chatted with Bard and his family for the rest of the day, telling him stories of Dvergatal and their journey thus far and listening to his account of what life was like under the Master’s rule in Esgaroth. Shortly after nightfall, a soft whimper of pain sounded from the corner, almost immediately followed up by a deeper moan. Alaisia’s head jerked toward the corner, where she saw Kili grimacing and shifting in the bed. Oin rushed over to him and felt his forehead.

“He is burning up again!” Oin exclaimed urgently. “Fili, get the blanket off of him. I need to check his wound.”

Alaisia ran across the room to assist while Bofur and Bard stayed back with Bard’s children.

Oin meticulously peeled back the layers of bandages to inspect Kili’s injury. He inhaled sharply, clearly alarmed at what he saw. Alaisia peered over his shoulder and pressed a hand over her mouth. The region around Kili’s wound was covered in a dark shadow, though it was not like any infection Alaisia or Oin had ever seen. It was something different, perhaps poison.

“Do you know of any poisons that would cause this?” Alaisia asked.

“No,” Oin answered grimly. “Our best hope would be to examine the arrow that struck Kili, but we do not have that in our possession.”

Fili swore. “I’m such a fool for just chucking it overboard. I should have known to save it…”

Alaisia soothingly placed an arm around Fili’s shoulders. “Don’t say that, Fee. None of this is your fault. You were panicked, and you had no cause to believe then that the arrow might have been poisoned. Anyone might have done the same in your situation.”

Oin rubbed his beard. “I do know of some remedies for poison. At worst, they will do no further harm to him; at best, we may get lucky and end up treating whatever Kili was poisoned with. But we must act quickly. Time is against us, and each moment the poison goes unchallenged Kili’s condition will continue to worsen.”

It all made sense now—how Kili had failed to improve as expected, his weakness, and his loss of appetite. Were it just a simple arrow wound, he should have shown _some_ improvement by now, even if it weren’t substantial. Alaisia regretted not seeing it before now.

As Oin gathered the materials he needed from his healing bag and set a mortar and pestle on Bard’s table, the group heard a strange scuffling sound above them.

“It’s probably those bloody rats again,” Bain muttered. “I’ll get my bow.”

“Language, Bain! We have guests,” Bard reprimanded his son.

“Sorry, Da,” Bain sheepishly rubbed his head. 

Bain turned to go get his bow, but he halted in his tracks when he heard a loud, menacing _crack_ on the roof.

“What was that?” Tilda asked, her tiny voice sounding frightened.

“I’m not sure,” Bard muttered. “Sigrid, hold your sister close. Bain, go get your bow and come straight back.” He reached under the kitchen table and retrieved his own bow and quiver, which were secured underneath the top of the table.

“We technically are not supposed to have these,” Bard told Alaisia. “The Master does not want any of us townsfolk armed.”

Bain returned with his bow just in time for another _crack_ , followed by heavy footsteps on the roof.

“Has the Master already discovered we are harboring them?” Sigrid asked her father as Tilda huddled against her skirts.

Bard shook his head. “I very much doubt it. When the Master sent his goons after me in the past, they always knocked on the front door.”

Alaisia listened intently. She heard footsteps thud across the roof, then a heavy _thud_ as something landed on the balcony outside Bard’s home. A foul smell wafted through the door, and she heard grunts in an uncouth tongue.

 _Valar save us,_ Alaisia thought as she drew Dauntless from its sheath.

“These are no men,” she solemnly told Bard. “The Orcs have come. I am so sorry, Bard. I never meant for you and your family to fall in harm’s way.”

“Do not apologize—you warned me this could happen, and I made my decision to shelter you in spite of that. We will fight together. Sigrid, Tilda, take shelter under the table. If you go upstairs, we cannot protect you. Bain, watch out for your sisters.”

 _Crunch_. The door wavered in its frame.

“I will stay here and guard Kili,” Oin told them as he hefted his mighty battle staff.

Another blow struck the door. The wood creaked and groaned under the intensity of the assault. Outside, armored boots stomped across wood planks.

Fili drew his twin swords and Bofur raised his mattock. A hole broke open in the door, revealing the glint of a mace on the other side of it.

“ _Baruk_ _Khazâd_ _!”_ Alaisia shouted.

“ _Khazâd ai-mênu_!” Her fellow Dwarves roared.

One more blow sundered the door from its frame. It crashed to the floor in Bard’s home, and Orcs began to stream in. Alaisia surged forward with Dauntless, driving her gleaming blade deep into the belly of an Orc and punching the Orc to force the wretched creature’s corpse off her blade. With remarkable swiftness, Bard fired arrow after arrow at the Orcs as they poured in. Bain also shot several Orcs, though he was not quite as fast as his father.

However, there were too many Orcs to simply hold them at or near the door. Soon Orcs penetrated deeper into Bard’s main living space. Fili spun and slashed with his swords, dispatching Orcs with a cold rage as he defended his ailing brother. Oin whirled his battle staff in the air and brought it down on Orcs, breaking their skulls with sickening crunches. Bofur wielded his mattock to knock the legs out from under an Orc that was trying to overturn the table Sigrid and Tilda were under, and Alaisia finished off that Orc with a stab.

As she fought, Alaisia kept her eyes open for any sign of Bolg. She was certain he was here somewhere, though she had not yet seen him in Bard’s house.

 _He is no doubt waiting until our strength is depleted. I will_ not _give him the satisfaction_.

A shattering sound pierced the air on the side of Bard’s house, and Alaisia wheeled around to see that Orcs were now clambering in through a broken window.

 _Dammit!_ Alaisia cursed internally, dashing over to help Fili stem the tide of Orcs. The two of them fought back-to-back, fighting off the Orcs that soon surrounded them, only for more Orcs to emerge from the window to replace those that perished. Behind her, Alaisia heard the frightened cries of Tilda and the screams of Sigrid, followed by the sound of Bofur’s mattock breaking the body of another Orc.

“Alaisia!” Bofur called out. “I cannot hold them all off.”

“Stay strong, Bofur! We cannot give up now.”

Even as she said the words, she knew Bofur was right. As was ever the case when facing Bolg’s forces, they once again found themselves woefully outnumbered.

“Ah!” A gasp of surprise came from Kili. Alaisia saw that an Orc had clambered up on top of Kili and was reaching for him with its gnarled hands.

Neither she nor Fili could get to him, for they were both surrounded by Orcs. Both fought desperately nonetheless, trying their hardest to carve a path through. An Orc jeered at Alaisia and swung its axe at her when she was distracted. Alaisia only just managed to block the strike with her blade, narrowly avoiding impact. She growled and pushed forward, trying to shove Orcs out of the way by stabbing, punching, and kicking.

The Orc on top of Kili grabbed his neck and started to squeeze.

“NO!” Alaisia screamed, angrily slashing at the Orcs in front of her.

Kili sputtered and weakly fought. Alaisia was starting to fear the worst when a bow sang out and an arrow flew directly into the Orc’s throat. Alaisia turned around and gasped.

Over the heads of the Orcs that encircled Fili and her, Alaisia saw a familiar face.

“Tauriel!” Alaisia greeted her, overjoyed to see that she had returned. “Thank the Valar you are here. Kili has not improved, and we are outflanked by these blasted Orcs.”

Tauriel smiled at her. “I’m not the only one who is here.”

As if on cue, the expression of an Orc attempting to climb in through the window shifted from focus to sheer panic. It fell back as it was yanked away, screeching in Orcish until it hit the wooden causeway below. In its place appeared a blonde-haired Elf.

“Legolas!” Alaisia exclaimed.

“We always meant to return, but we could not immediately do so—I shall explain later,” Legolas said.

He pulled out his twin daggers and slashed back and forth, cutting fluidly through the Orcs. With his assistance and with Tauriel’s, the eclectic band of fighters soon began to turn the tide against the Orcs inside Bard’s house. Slowly, the Orcs began to retreat, fleeing the house down the stairs leading up to it.

Not all of the Orcs had given up though. An arrow soared in through the broken window, narrowly missing Alaisia and landing in Bard’s ceiling.

“Elf-scum! Come down and face me, unless you are afraid of your pretty face being marred.”

It was Bolg.

Legolas assessed the situation, looking first at Bolg, then at Kili, then at Tauriel. His face softened. “You can help him, Tauriel. You are far more gifted in healing than I am, and I know your heart regarding him. I will buy you all as much time as I can.”

“Legolas, no!” Alaisia called out as Legolas made his way to the door. “You only saw a taste of Bolg’s fighting abilities on the edge of the forest. He was already a fearsome warrior at the Battle of Azanulbizar, and he has only grown stronger in the years since then. You are a better fighter than him, but if you go down there, you will be vastly outnumbered. Allow some of us to go with you.”

He shook his head. “I will go alone. You all must stay here to protect Kili as well as Bard and his family. I will be fine, trust me,” he promised. “I will return when I can.” With that, Legolas swiftly disappeared out the front door and swung down from the balcony onto the walkway below, not bothering with the stairs.

“Kili! Kili, can you hear me?” Fili asked, shaking his brother lightly when he received no response. He looked up at Tauriel, his face drawn in tense lines. “Can you save him?” Fili asked, tears streaming down his face.

Tauriel looked at Kili, hissing when she saw his wound. “Those accursed Orcs!” She snarled. “Yes, I can save him. I have seen this poison before. Do you have _athelas_?”

“D’you mean kingsfoil?” Oin asked. “No, ‘tis but a weed!”

“For most purposes, yes,” Tauriel responded, offering Oin a grim smile. “But I know how to use it to heal Kili.”

“A few houses down, there is a barrel stuffed with kingsfoil. My neighbors use it to feed their pigs,” Bard hurriedly said. “I don’t have any here, though.”

“I will go,” Bain announced bravely.

“No! I forbid it. It is too dangerous for you to go,” Bard told his son. “We do not know if Orcs are still watching our door.”

Bain shook his head stubbornly. “They are looking for Dwarves, not for human children. I have a better chance at passing unseen, and I _can_ fight.”

Bard sighed and gave his son a long look. “Go swiftly then and come straight back. Do not stop to fight.”

Bain nodded and dashed off. While waiting for his return, Tauriel pulled the bed Kili was on away from the corner to allow Alaisia and Fili to flank it and hold Kili down.

“This might be painful, and I cannot afford to have him move during the healing ritual,” Tauriel explained. “Bard, can you prepare a damp cloth and a bowl of water for me?”

Bard nodded and swiftly retrieved the items Tauriel requested. To everyone’s relief, Bain soon returned with a fistful of kingsfoil.

“Thank you, young one,” Tauriel smiled down at him, “you are very brave to have retrieved this for us.”

“Not at all,” Bain insisted. “There aren’t any other Orcs outside now.”

“None?” Alaisia asked incredulously.

“Well, there were plenty of Orc corpses,” Bain elaborated. “A whole trail of Orc corpses extended away from here, deeper into the town, and I heard the sounds of fighting in the distance. I didn’t go investigate though, I just grabbed the kingsfoil and ran back here.”

“You did well, son,” Bard praised Bain, ruffling his hair.

Tauriel took the _athelas_ and soaked it in the water briefly before crushing it between her fingers and packing it into Kili’s wound. Then, she pressed the cloth over Kili’s wound and closed her eyes, concentrating intently on the task before her.

“ _Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth_ ,” Tauriel chanted slowly.

She repeated this mantra slowly, deliberately, again and again as Fili, Oin, and Alaisia watched anxiously for any sign of improvement. At first it seemed to not do anything, and Alaisia started to lose hope. Even Tauriel’s expression was strained as she looked down at Kili.

“ _Hon leitho o ngurth,_ ” Tauriel repeated a final time, her initially confident voice now tinged with desperation.

Kili gasped as his eyes fluttered open.

“Where am I?” He asked in a croaky voice. Kili blinked a few times, clearly still rather foggy, and his eyes widened when he registered Tauriel’s presence. “Tauriel? You came back,” he murmured, his face blissful.

“Of course I did,” Tauriel laughed merrily. Alaisia could’ve sworn she saw a few stray tears escape the Elf’s eyes.

“We are at Bard’s house; he took us in to shelter us from the Master, who wanted to keep us as hostages to ensure Thorin would pay him. Tauriel saved you, Kili. Oin and I could not do anything to help you. The arrow wound was poisoned, you see.”

“Thank you, Tauriel,” Kili said, clasping Tauriel’s hand. “I owe you my life.”

Tauriel blushed bright pink and gave Kili’s hands a light squeeze in return. “You’re welcome, Kili. I…I could not let you die. You need rest, though. The healing ritual I performed banished the poison from your body, but you have not recovered your full strength yet.”

Wordlessly, Kili brought the Elf’s delicate hands up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on them. He looked at Tauriel, the shadow of a hopeful smile on his face, and closed his eyes.

“I shall rest well now,” he murmured. Soon after he had drifted off once more, though now it was an untroubled, peaceful sleep.

Tauriel brushed Kili’s hair back from his face and laid a hand on his shoulder. Alaisia could not help but grin at the scene—it was obvious from Tauriel’s tenderness that Kili’s affections were requited.

It was Oin who broke the silence that followed. “That was remarkable,” he praised Tauriel. “I am honored to have seen such a healing feat performed. Is there any chance a Dwarf could learn how to do that?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Tauriel answered softly, not wishing to cause Kili to stir. “Only Elves can heal in that manner.”

Oin nodded in understanding, though he was clearly disappointed at Tauriel’s answer. “Will Kili be able to travel again soon?” He asked.

“I think so,” Tauriel surmised. “His stitches have set well and should allow the flesh underneath to start recovering, especially now that the poison is gone. He may retain a mild limp for several days, but I expect that he will make a full recovery.”

“Thank you so much, Tauriel,” Alaisia said, relieved to hear Tauriel’s hopeful assessment of Kili’s prognosis.

It was quiet in Bard’s house now; the only sounds were the soft snores coming from Kili and occasional snippets of conversation between the other occupants of the house. Even outside the home, the evening had grown quiet. Alaisia strained to hear anything—a slight rustle, or perhaps the _clang_ of a sword—that might reveal the presence of Orcs outside, but she could no longer hear any sign of battle.

After waiting a short while to ensure Kili was sleeping soundly, Alaisia addressed Tauriel again. “Should we inspect the scene outside? It is eerily silent, and I do not trust that all of the Orcs have fled.”

“That would be wise, I deem,” Tauriel agreed. “If there are still Orcs lurking nearby, we do not want to be caught off guard.”

Tauriel grabbed her bow and slung her quiver over her shoulder once more before she and Alaisia exited Bard’s dwelling. Once outside, Alaisia’s eyes widened in shock. Bain had not exaggerated when he described a trail of corpses. Dead Orcs were strewn all across the stairs and causeway leading away from Bard’s house. Some had arrows jutting out of them at odd angles while others had still-seeping wounds from sharp blades. Tauriel jogged ahead and squinted as she stared into the distant darkness.

“Should we search for Legolas?” Alaisia asked, scanning the carnage for any sign of blood that might not have originated from an Orc.

“No,” Tauriel answered, “there are more Orc bodies in the distance. I am confident that my cousin is holding his own, and that if he has not yet returned, he has good reason for staying away. If the tide of battle turns against him, he will find his way back to us. It is best for us to linger here so that we do not further divide our strength in case the Orcs return.”

 _Or in the event of other threats_ , Alaisia mentally added as she looked at the towering silhouette of the Erebor in the distance. The moon and the stars cast a bright glow over the landscape, rendering Erebor and the dazzling snow on its peak visible. It was a breathtaking sight that concealed a dire threat. Somewhere beneath the rock and snow was an enormous beast, shod in red scales, filled with fire, and armed with vicious claws.

Alaisia shuddered.

Tauriel saw Alaisia staring at the Mountain and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Your companions were due to enter Erebor tonight, were they not?”

“Yes,” Alaisia gravely murmured.

“You fear for their safety,” Tauriel guessed, her voice sympathetic and soft.

“And for ours, should Smaug stir and decide to rampage,” Alaisia added. “I have seen dragon fire once before, and it is something that I never care to experience again, _especially_ while in a veritable tinderbox,” Alaisia grumbled, gesturing at the wooden buildings that crowded Lake-town.

Tauriel squeezed her shoulder. “You are not alone in those fears,” she revealed. “Dark wings have plagued my dreams. Let us hope that our fears shall not come to pass.”

Alaisia nodded solemnly and tore her gaze away from the Mountain as she picked her way back across the walkway to Bard's house. When she opened the door, she saw that Bard, Fili, Bofur, and Oin were dragging the Orc bodies that littered the room into a neat pile. Remarkably, Kili was sleeping through the whole ordeal, his features serene.

 _He must truly be exhausted now_ , Alaisia thought with a twinge of pity for her nephew. _It is good that he is able to rest now. Kili shall need his full strength in the days to come, I deem._

After all, Smaug was but one of multiple threats to the safety of the Company. For now, Alaisia shoved troublesome thoughts of Orcs, Smaug, and the Necromancer to the corners of her mind so that she could speak to Bard.

“I am truly sorry for the damage done to your home, Bard,” Alaisia apologized. “None of this would have happened if we were staying elsewhere. Rest assured that I will see to it that you are properly compensated.”

Bard inclined his head gratefully. “There is no need to apologize, but I appreciate your offer all the same. I could use some help in ridding my home of these Orc corpses.”

“Oh, of course!” Alaisia replied as she joined the others in gathering the Orcs.

Tauriel also helped with the effort, and when all of the Orc cadavers were piled together, the group started chucking them into the water adjacent to Bard's house. Bard's residence certainly _smelled_ much better with the Orcs removed, but evidence of their former presence lingered in the form of blood stains scattered across the floor. To their credit, Bard’s children were faring remarkably well in light of all that had happened that night. More than anything, they simply looked exhausted; indeed, young Tilda was nodding off as she sat curled up in her older sister Sigrid’s lap.

The sight tugged at Alaisia’s heartstrings, for it reminded her of her own children, of simpler times when they were small enough to sit in her lap ere bedtime. Eiraisia and Thornar used to snuggle into Thorin or Alaisia and eagerly listen to an entire bedtime story; in fact, they even _demanded_ that their parents finish the story, for they did not wish to sleep without hearing the ending. Those times were long gone now, though. Alaisia sighed, wishing more than anything that she could hold her twins again. 

“Perhaps we should all try to get some rest,” Bard suggested softly as he ruffled Tilda’s hair.

Alaisia eyed the broken window and the bloodstains on the floor. “Sleep would do us all some good, but I do not think it wise that we all go to separate areas of the house. The Orcs could return at any time. We should take turns keeping watch.”

“There is no need—I shall take the watch,” Tauriel offered. “Elves need far less sleep than Dwarves and humans do. Furthermore, my hearing is more sensitive. Anything that might pose a threat shall not escape my notice.”

Too exhausted from the day’s events to argue with Tauriel, Alaisia simply gave the Elf a grateful, weary smile and unfurled her bedroll. Frigid air seeped in through the broken window, causing everyone save Tauriel to shiver with cold. Bard piled extra wood in the fireplace to compensate and brought down an array of extra blankets to share. The blankets were well-worn and threadbare in places, but they added some warmth.

Utterly spent, Alaisia curled up on her bedroll to conserve body heat. She unhooked her sword from her clothing but kept an arm over it as she slept, for she did not want to be caught unprepared in the event the Orcs returned. Bard snuffed out the candles in the room, leaving only the fireplace lit, and Alaisia soon fell into a deep sleep.

When her eyes closed, Alaisia found herself in Dale. It was not a smoldering ruin as it so often was in her dreams since fleeing Smaug’s assault; rather, Dale appeared in Alaisia’s mind as it once was. Alaisia took great delight in wandering the halls of her family’s home, retracing her steps through the family workshop where she had spent so many hours working on trinkets and weapons, and strolling through the garden her family had so carefully tended. She saw Haldan, her friendly human neighbor, waving at her from in front of his house, a joke undoubtedly forming on the tip of his tongue.

Memories of her time in Dale flooded her dream: her early morning walks; the ball held by Lord Girion where Alaisia first danced with Thorin; the rose garden Alaisia took Thorin to when he was distressed about his grandfather’s condition. The dream was as beautiful as it was melancholic, each memory tainted by an understanding that it could never be reclaimed.

And then everything changed.

A searingly hot wind whipped up in Dale of Alaisia’s dream, and she knew that Smaug had come. The dream transformed into a much more familiar nightmare, yet another variant on the theme that had troubled Alaisia’s sleep for decades now. Alaisia stood frozen in the street, utterly horrified and helpless, as the city burned around her. She saw her neighbor Haldan’s house destroyed by Smaug, saw the flames lick at the marketplace, saw humans and Dwarves running for their lives, but it was as if her feet were rooted to the ground by some unseen force. Smaug started to bear down on her, his maw stretched wide as the glow of fire started to form in his belly, and the ground shook violently beneath her feet.

Alaisia awoke with a gasp, startled and frightened and dripping with sweat. Her state of unease heightened when she realized that part of her dream was not a dream at all—the ground was _still_ rumbling beneath her, causing Bard’s house to groan. It stopped soon enough, but Alaisia was already on her feet, her sword strapped to her back. She saw Tauriel dash outside and raced after her. When Alaisia’s feet hit the balcony, she first looked at Tauriel. The Elven princess’ face was ashen, her expression somewhere between dread and horror.

It confirmed what Alaisia already suspected in light of her dream and the shaking that stirred her. She almost did not need to look in the distance toward the Lonely Mountain, yet she still did, wanting to have her suspicions confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt. Far in the distance, a glimmering shadow backlit by moonlight ascended into the sky. It spun, causing a cascade of what looked like gold dust to plummet to the ground, and started to soar toward Lake-town.

Smaug had awoken once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I originally intended to include Smaug's attack in this chapter, but...I got kind of carried away with everything leading up to that, haha. Given how long this chapter already is, I decided to save Smaug's attack for Chapter 23. That means we'll see Erebor in Chapter 24 now. I need a bit more time to work on the next chapter, but it should be ready the week of February 15th. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter! I kept Tauriel's healing words the same as in the films. 
> 
> Some translations below:  
> Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!: The Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you! [battle cry]
> 
> Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin, hon leitho o ngurth: May the blessing that was given to me be sent from me to him, may he be released from death (from Elendilion translations of Elvish in the Hobbit movies)


	23. Fire and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug comes to Lake-town.

**Alaisia’s POV**

Tauriel tore her eyes away from the dragon’s shadow and met Alaisia’s gaze. They nodded at one another, a silent acknowledgement that their plight was dire and that not a second could be wasted if they were to have any hope at surviving what was to come, before they ventured back inside Bard’s house.

“What is it? What is happening out there?” Bofur asked.

Bard answered with a question of his own. “Smaug is coming for us, isn’t he?” He looked at Alaisia, his face grave.

“Yes,” Alaisia solemnly affirmed. “Bard, do you still have the black arrow? Girion’s heir had a spare one with him when he and his mother fled Dale.”

Perhaps it was too much to hope that an arrow was kept as an heirloom, but Alaisia had to at least ask. It might be their only hope of defeating Smaug. To Alaisia’s surprise, Bard nodded and wordlessly hurried over to his kitchen table. He yanked what looked like part of a pole down from the ceiling, and only when hanging herbs and vegetables were torn off of it did Alaisia see that it was exactly what she sought: a black arrow, probably the last one in existence.

“That arrow is made of _galvorn_ , a precious metal derived from rocks that have fallen from the night sky. If we can get that to the Dwarvish windlance that still exists here, we may have a chance at killing Smaug. Girion’s strike must have at least loosened a scale _somewhere_ on Smaug,” Alaisia explained.

Bard shook his head. “Not we, _I_. I will do this. Alaisia, Tauriel—take your companions and my children and flee this place.”

“No! I won’t leave you,” Bain exclaimed, his cries joined by protests from his sisters as well. All three of Bard’s children begged him to stay, tears spilling freely from their eyes.

“It is too dangerous, let me go with you!” Alaisia argued.

Resolute in his decision, Bard again shook his head. “No. It was my ancestor who failed to kill the beast after all, and I know this city far better than you or Tauriel. I can reach the windlance quickly, and I am a good shot. But I _need_ to know that my children will make it out alive. Please do this for me.”

 _You would want someone to do the same for your children_ , his eyes said, a silent plea in them. Alaisia’s shoulders sagged in defeat.

“We will get them out of the city,” Alaisia agreed somberly. “Be careful, Bard, and may the Valar guide your aim.”

“Thank you. There is a boat down below that you can take,” Bard murmured before hugging each of his children in turn.

His goodbyes were tearful but brief, for all of those present knew that there was absolutely no time to spare. Already a scorching, dry breeze had started to blow in, and the beats of Smaug’s wings as they pounded the air grew closer by the moment. Swiftly, Bard departed the house and all but flew down the stairs in his haste to make his way to the windlance.

“Come, we must leave now,” Tauriel commanded as she ushered everyone out of the house.

Fear gripped Alaisia when she set foot outside and saw Smaug bearing down on the city. Unlike in her dream, though, her fear did not immobilize her. Alaisia had endured this before, and while she had hoped to never endure it again, she was determined to survive her second encounter with Smaug. More importantly, she needed to get her nephews and Bard’s children out of harm’s way.

A small rowboat with a single oar was moored outside Bard’s home just as he promised. It was not the most robust boat Alaisia had ever seen, but it looked large and sturdy enough to just fit Bard’s children, the Dwarves, and Tauriel. Tauriel untied the boat and held it still while the others boarded. Fili and Kili each had a look of abject fear in their eyes as they boarded the boat that broke Alaisia’s heart.

 _Dis, I_ swear _I will return your sons to you, even if I die trying,_ Alaisia vowed, sending a silent prayer to the Valar. She was grateful that her parents and Dis would not have to endure the terror of Smaug again, that they were leagues away in the safety of Dvergatal along with Eiraisia and Thornar. A sting of regret filled Alaisia as she thought of the danger she and the boys were now in.

 _Was it all worth it?_ She wondered, her heart clenching at the thought that she might not ever hold her twins again. Her mind also drifted to Thorin and the others who had traveled to Erebor. _Did they survive? Or did Smaug slaughter them all?_

Alaisia shook her head. There was no time to dwell on any of that now. She had her nephews to consider, and any distraction could hinder the group’s escape. _Survival_ _first, everything else later_ , Alaisia repeated to herself as Tauriel deftly hopped into the boat and used an oar to push it away. Their boarding came not a moment too soon, for Smaug was now upon them. The dragon roared mightily before it unleashed a torrent of fire across a broad swath of the city’s wooden buildings, causing the air to crackle with heat.

Tauriel’s head swiveled as she studied the scene, attempting to ascertain a path out of the veritable maze of water and wooden walkways. She settled on a path forward and began to row.

“Your cousin!” Kili called out, suddenly remembering Legolas. “We have to find him.”

Tauriel looked at Kili over her shoulder, tears glimmering in her eyes. “There is no time. Legolas is like a brother to me, but if we search for him, we may all perish. He would want us to escape, and he is clever—if there is a way out, he will find it.” She sighed. “We must be as quiet as possible now, for we do not want to draw Smaug’s attention. ‘Tis best if the beast neither sees nor hears us.”

The others nodded silently. As if on cue, Smaug _screeched_ violently and swept low over the city, raking his claws over rooftops and grabbing Lake-town citizens in his talons. Sigrid held Tilda close as the little one silently sobbed, clutching a raggedy doll close to her chest. Bain looked agitated; Bofur, Fili, and Kili all looked terrified. Oin looked as if he had seen a ghost. Alaisia was certain her expression mirrored his. The two of them had experienced this before, though Oin was in Erebor and Alaisia was in Dale. She reached for the old Dwarf’s hand and gave it a light squeeze.

Tauriel rowed as swiftly as she could, but even her Elven strength and agility could not fully compensate for having only one oar to row with. Moreover, the boat was weighed down with so many huddled on it. Their pace was slow, and Alaisia feared it would prove too slow, but there was no remedying it. They initially set out in the direction Bard ran off, for the waterways were more open in that direction as far as Tauriel could tell. The group had not been sailing for long when Alaisia heard a familiar voice shouting.

“You must let me go!” Bard commanded urgently. “I _need_ to get this arrow to the windlance so that I can bring the dragon down.”

“And I need to get a golden pig from the market,” a guard responded sarcastically. “We have it on good authority that you were harboring those Dwarves. The Master wants you arrested.”

A bevy of guards had Bard surrounded. Bard looked at them, his face filled with disgust and disbelief.

“You fools!” Bard chastised them. “If you do not let me go, there will be no jail to throw me in, nor will any of us remain to keep track of the charges! Arrest me when I am done if you like, but you must allow me to do my duty to protect the town first.”

Another guard laughed cruelly. “Protect the town, hm? Just like your ancestor did, eh Bard? That’s a good joke.”

Alaisia gritted her teeth as she considered her options. As ignorant and spiteful as these guards were, she could not bring herself to harm them. They were simply following the Master’s orders. Yet the guards could not be allowed to hinder Bard’s progress as they currently were, and since they were attempting to arrest Bard for harboring her, Alaisia felt some responsibility to deal with the problem. Her mind made up, Alaisia fired a handful of arrows at the wooden planks near the guards. She aimed carefully to avoid striking any of the guards, for she knew that any injury to them that might hinder their movement was as good as signing their death warrant with a dragon on the loose. Her actions had the desired effect.

“Oi!” One of the guards shouted. “Someone’s shooting at us!”

“We’d better run, mates,” another guard called out nervously.

Alaisia nearly breathed a sigh of relief, but another, larger gaggle of guards promptly swept in toward Bard as the first group ran off.

“Da!” Bain called out anxiously. Before Alaisia could react, Bain jumped up and grabbed a wooden beam that was sticking out over the waterway. He used it to swing onto the adjacent boardwalk and set off toward his father at a run.

“Leave my father alone!” Bain screamed at the guards.

“Bain, come _back_!” Alaisia shouted. “Your father wants you to escape this place.”

Alaisia rose unsteadily, thinking of running after Bain, but Smaug swept down and demolished a building, sending rubble cascading across the path between the boat and Bain. The sudden turbulence in the water caused Alaisia to lose her footing, though mercifully she fell forward in the boat and not into the water. When the dust settled from the building’s collapse, Alaisia’s view of Bain and Bard was completely obscured by the wreckage.

“Bain!” Sigrid and Tilda shrieked in unison, both weeping over the prospect of losing their brother and their father.

Always selfless and good-natured, Bofur tried to comfort Bard’s daughters. Some fears cannot be soothed, though, and his efforts had little effect other than to still the sound of their sobs. Sigrid and Tilda were numb with fear and grief. Alaisia clung to some hope that Bain and Bard were alive and uncaptured behind the destruction, but her hope waned with each additional blast of fire that came from the dragon flying overhead.

Reflections of flames danced ominously in the water as building after building collapsed in fire and ash. The heat was unbearable and the smoke that saturated the air was suffocating, causing Alaisia and the others to break into coughing fits at times. Around her, Alaisia heard a never-ending series of screams from Lake-town residents punctuated only by menacing _roars_ from Smaug and the sound of wood splintering as the dragon wreaked havoc on the town. People howled in grief and pain, and where Alaisia could see through the smoke and flames, she saw families running with young children in tow as they frantically tried to flee. Others were helplessly casting buckets of lake water on buildings in feeble attempts to stave off the flames.

Many more were injured or dying. Alaisia watched in horror as a group of people running for their lives were struck with a column of dragon fire. She averted her eyes quickly, unwilling to watch them burn to death and unable to help, but she could not shut out the sounds of their screams. Her stomach roiled when the smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils.

Through all of this, Alaisia was battered with pangs of guilt. _Smaug only stirred because of us,_ she told herself, _we caused this. These deaths are in part on our hands. We should have gone in with an army or not at all._ Granted, Smaug likely would have joined forces with the Necromancer otherwise and caused even worse destruction…but that knowledge did little to abate Alaisia’s guilt.

Alaisia’s heart hammered painfully in her chest. Memories of Smaug’s rampage through Dale clawed their way back into her mind as she watched the carnage unfold. Smaug had torn through Dale as if the city were made of a child’s toy bricks; here in Esgaroth, the firestorm brought by the dragon was even worse owing to the abundance of wooden buildings. There was only one bridge to the mainland from the town on the Long Lake, and as far as Alaisia could tell, that bridge was now a smoldering ruin.

After what felt like an eternity, the boat bearing Alaisia and the others passed into a slightly wider canal, though they were still within the burning town. Up ahead, a massive barge shod with gold and piled with treasure was slowly plowing down the water lane. Evacuees manning other, smaller boats scrambled to steer their boats out of the way of the barge. Some boats managed to steer clear just in time; others were decidedly less fortunate and were broken apart by the barge. The occupants of the shattered boats were forced to leap into the water and swim to other boats nearby in the hope that they might have room for one more passenger.

_What self-righteous load of Orc dung is “steering” that monstrosity? Is that the Master’s barge?_

A plump, extravagantly dressed figure soon appeared on the stern.

“Stop right there!” The Master shouted out angrily. “You bloody Dwarves fled like miserable thieves, but the Orcs did not know that. They came to _my_ residence first and smashed in many of my windows. Everything is covered in Orc blood!”

Alaisia rolled her eyes. “We are all fleeing a rampaging _dragon_ , and you are concerned about Orc blood and smashed windows?! What is wrong with you?”

“You are also injuring your own people by recklessly allowing your craft to collide with theirs,” Fili accused the Master.

The Master wheezed from smoke inhalation before responding. “I-I will hold you Dwarves accountable for this, mark my words! Not just for my mansion, but for Smaug’s attack.” He turned to his guards. “Guards, row out the spare boat and seize them. Leave the Elf, I suppose, but get those two kids along with the Dwarves. I recognize their miserable, pathetic faces.”

“You heard the Master, hurry it up!” The weaselly voice of Alfrid chimed in.

“Simply unbelievable,” Kili muttered in disgust.

Ere any of those on board the barge could lower a rowboat, Smaug unleashed another deluge of fire. Caught in the crosshairs of the fire, the Master’s barge was torched. Those on board screamed and wailed; the Master tried to jump overboard, but his robes got caught on a gold statue on the back of the ship, leaving him dangling off of the burning boat. The whole ship was soon consumed in flames from bow to stern.

 _A fitting demise for the Master I suppose but rather inconvenient for us and others trying to escape,_ Alaisia mused, studying the flaming wreckage carefully. Bits of burning debris were breaking off and falling into the water, making the ruined barge a dangerous obstacle.

“Hold on tight!” Tauriel commanded as she forcefully rowed to veer away from the danger.

Smaug swept low overhead again and screeched, so close to the water that Alaisia could feel the rushing wind brought by his wings. She grabbed Fili and Kili and held them close, desperately wanting to protect them but unable to do anything other than pray that they would all escape. Thankfully for them, Smaug had other plans and continued his path back toward the heart of the town.

Tauriel managed to skirt the burning shell of the Master’s ship as well as the charred bits of wood floating in the water. She rowed decisively and quickly, trying with all her might to get the boat out of the town’s waterways.

“You’re almost there, Tauriel!” Kili called out encouragingly.

Deep in concentration, Tauriel said nothing in response; instead, she merely rowed harder. Gradually, the last of the wooden planks that formed the town’s walkways receded behind the group, and they found themselves in open water. Alaisia could not bring herself to breathe a sigh of relief, though, for even if Smaug was focused single mindedly on the town, that would soon be wholly destroyed at his current pace. Smaug would surely turn his attention elsewhere after—unless he was slain.

Alaisia looked back on Esgaroth when Tauriel had urged the boat further away from the town. The entire city was ablaze, its wooden buildings crumbling, burning, and collapsing. An eerie orange glow from the flames had seeped into the sky, and thick clouds of smoke hung low over the town in places. Only a few buildings still stood, and even those would surely succumb to Smaug’s rage soon.

One very important building still remained, though.

“The tower! The tower with the windlance still stands,” Alaisia cried out.

Tauriel’s gaze snapped to it. “Bard and Bain are in the tower! I can see them.”

“Do they have the arrow?” Oin asked urgently.

Tauriel’s eyes narrowed as even her Elf eyes strained to see through the smoke. “Yes, I believe so.”

They were not the only ones to have noticed the tower. Smaug also saw it and changed course mid-air, barreling toward the tower at a breakneck speed. It was all too familiar for Alaisia. She thought back to Lord Girion’s final stand at the windlance of Dale. Smaug destroyed that tower, killing Girion in the collapse. Alaisia fervently hoped the same fate would not befall Bard and Bain, though it seemed increasingly likely considering the rapidly closing distance between Smaug and the tower.

A projectile soared through the air from the tower toward the dragon, again mimicking what had happened in Dale. Alaisia watched with dread, fearing that it would miss the dragon or that the arrow would strike true but have little apparent effect as had happened in Dale.

But then something remarkable happened.

The projectile hit Smaug’s underside, and the dragon cried out in a piercing roar of pain. Smaug abruptly tore away from his current course and clawed up into the air as if he were trying to escape. There would be no more escaping for Smaug, though. As swiftly as he ascended, he came crashing back down. His corpse hit the burning town below with a thunderous impact and crashed through the wood into the water below. Alaisia was overjoyed at the sight of the dragon’s demise—it was something she had long yearned to see—but she could not revel in the moment too much. The collision of the dragon with the water’s surface sent a shockwave through the water that nearly capsized the boat bearing Alaisia and the others.

Unfortunately for Bard and Bain, this shockwave also proved sufficient to destroy the structural integrity of the tower that sheltered them. Alaisia held Fili and Kili a little bit closer as they helplessly watched the wooden tower collapse. Her heart ached at the wails of Sigrid and Tilda, both of whom were overcome with grief. Tauriel was stunned into silence. The death of Smaug was of great significance to her as well; after all, the wretched beast killed her parents years ago.

Yet their shared victory, their shared sense of relief and revenge, was tempered for it came with a great price. Esgaroth was no more. Many of its inhabitants were maimed or dead, and the survivors were left with little more than the clothes on their backs.

And Bard and Bain, the heroes who brought down the beast in the end, might be among the dead.

Alaisia buried her head in Fili’s shoulder and wept as the shore drew nearer.

* * *

When the boat finally reached the shore of the Long Lake, Alaisia felt numb as she tried to drag herself out of the boat and onto dry land. It wasn't how she imagined she would feel when Smaug was finally vanquished. She thought she would feel nothing but the purest elation; that the shadow that settled over her heart years ago would dissipate. Alaisia felt some relief, but more than anything, she was weary and heartsick.

Now that her life was not in immediate danger, she had time to think. With a heavy heart, Alaisia thought of Thorin and the others who accompanied him to the Mountain. She tried to cling to a minute figment of irrational hope that somehow Thorin and the others were still alive, that they'd managed to conceal themselves from Smaug...but in her heart, Alaisia was certain that Smaug would have slaughtered them all ere traveling to Esgaroth. The dragon was too vindictive, and the numbers of the Company were too few.

Alaisia thought of Thorin: his comforting steely blue eyes, his tender embrace, and the delicate roughness of his lips. She thought of all they'd shared together, from their adventures and meetings in Dale to ruling Dvergatal and raising a family together. She thought of her children, how their precious faces would surely crumple in grief upon hearing that they would never see their father again. She thought of all the others in the Mountain who would also have perished: Balin and Dwalin, more like brothers to her than cousins-in-law; Bilbo, an innocent Hobbit who had been dragged into harm's way by this accursed quest; and all of the other Dwarves who had sacrificed so much to make it to Erebor.

Alaisia collapsed to her knees on the shore, sobs of grief wracking her body without reprieve. She dimly registered her fellow Dwarves, Sigrid, and Tilda sobbing nearby, all grieving their own losses. Tauriel patted Alaisia's back comfortingly, which of course only made Alaisia sob harder.

"They may yet have lived, _mellon nin_ ," Tauriel whispered.

Alaisia tried to offer Tauriel a grateful smile, though she was sure it came out as more of a grimace than anything as she was still weeping uncontrollably. The Elf was crying too, but her tears fell more softly, and her sobs were less pronounced.

 _Legolas might be dead as well, along with Bard and Bain_. The thought brought a fresh wave of sorrow and grief. Alaisia wondered if Gandalf had reunited with the Company as intended, or if his quest delayed him such that he was unable to meet them at the overlook. She settled on the latter, deeming it unlikely that Smaug would have stirred with such sudden ferocity if Gandalf had been anywhere nearby. A gentle nudge at Alaisia’s arms broke her train of thought, and she opened her eyes to see Fili and Kili huddling in. Alaisia wrapped her arms around both of them, offering silent companionship in mutual grief and willing her own tears to still.

They solemnly lingered there for a while, resting on the shores of the Long Lake as their tears flowed freely, until the commotion around them grew so great they were forced to return their focus to their immediate surroundings. Refugees from the burning shell of Esgaroth were still frantically swimming to shore, some freezing cold and suffering from signs of hypothermia. Many of the survivors bore burns, broken bones, and lacerations. Some fortunate souls escaped mostly unscathed, at least physically. Survivors were running and limping to and fro, frantically shouting and searching for loved ones who, in many cases, would not be found alive. Cries of pain, heartbreak, and anger sounded from the ragtag crowd assembled.

Among the chaos, though, another call rang out.

“Who killed the dragon?” A young woman asked, raising her voice so that it could be heard over the cacophony. “Whoever did so should be made a king!”

Murmurs of agreement came forth from those gathered.

“’Twas Bard!” A kindly old man shouted out, his voice hoarse and scratchy from smoke inhalation. “Bard vanquished the beast. Were it not for him, more of us would be among the dead, mark my words.” His shoulders sagged. “But alas, Bard is no more. He shot the wyrm from the tower with the windlance, and I saw the very same tower collapse but a few moments later.”

 _He finished what Girion started,_ Alaisia grimly reflected as townsfolk shared tales of times when Bard came to their aid over the years. _Though it came at a great price…_

Nearby, Sigrid and Tilda stared vacantly into the distance, both too enveloped in their misery to take heed of what was happening around them. Alaisia’s heart ached for their loss. _So much tragedy at so young an age—first their mother, and now their father and brother. There wasn’t even time for a proper farewell._

The sudden sound of hoofbeats pounding into the ground startled Alaisia from her grave thoughts. Her head whipped around to seek the sound’s source, and she saw a white stallion galloping toward the scattered band of survivors with great haste. On its back was Legolas.

“Tauriel!” Legolas called out as he swiftly halted his horse’s advance and dismounted.

Legolas rushed over to his cousin and embraced her. A telltale glisten adorned his cheeks, and there was a palpable relief in his posture as he held Tauriel close. Alaisia had only seen Legolas shed tears once before: when he first told her of the doomed assault his father led against Gundabad. After a long while, Legolas drew back and studied Tauriel carefully, attempting to ascertain whether she had experienced any injuries in her flight from Smaug. Satisfied that his cousin was whole and healthy, Legolas exhaled softly.

“I feared that I had lost you, _nethig_ ,” Legolas murmured.

Hearing Legolas refer to his cousin as his little sister in Sindarin and seeing their joyful reunion warmed Alaisia’s heart, though it also brought a fresh bout of melancholy for all the reunions that could never happen. Legolas released his cousin and turned to face the rest of the group. Alaisia rose to greet him, though her legs wavered slightly beneath her as she stood.

“I am glad that you are well, Legolas,” Alaisia began. Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, almost as if it were coming from a faraway place. She ascribed the strange sensation to exhaustion and grief and continued. “How did you escape? We boarded a boat, and Tauriel rowed us to safety.”

“There was no need for me to escape the wrath of the dragon, for I was already beyond the borders of Esgaroth. When I chased the Orcs away in pursuit of Bolg, I forced them to retreat over the bridge to the mainland. I was preparing to return to the town when Smaug bore down on it. Briefly I contemplated entering in spite of the danger, but ere I could make my decision, the bridge was obliterated,” Legolas explained, his head hung low in sorrow.

His eyes swept over those gathered. “I heard what the gatekeeper said of Bard, but I do not believe it. I saw the tower fall from afar. It is possible that if it crashed into the water, Bard may have lived. Was Bain with him? I do not see him here.”

Sigrid rubbed her eyes and nodded. “Bain leapt out of the boat to help Da when several guards attempted to stop him from reaching the tower with the windlance. You think my father and brother may yet be alive?” She asked with cautious hope.

“Perhaps,” Legolas answered with a contemplative sigh.

His footsteps took him closer to the water, and his eyes swept over the lake. If there was even a fraction of a chance that Bard and Bain might have survived, Alaisia knew it was imperative that they start a search for the pair immediately given the frigid water temperatures. Yet so much debris now cluttered the Long Lake that Alaisia didn’t know where they could even begin to search for Bard and his son. That made Legolas’ next words all the more surprising.

“There, in the distance!” He exclaimed, his long arm extending toward what looked to Alaisia like just another plank of wood far into the water. “Bard is out there. He is attempting to swim to the shore, but he is tugging someone with him, and the effort is slowing his progress.”

“Bain?!” Tilda exclaimed. “Is my big brother alive too?”

Legolas gave the little girl a sorrowful look. “That I cannot say from this distance unfortunately. He may simply be unconscious, but we will not know for sure until we are closer. I will go to them in the boat that you escaped in. They will not make it to land without our aid, and our aid must come swiftly. Tauriel, will you help me?”

Tauriel nodded decisively. With that, the two Elves quickly pushed the rowboat back into the water and set their course for Bard. Alaisia joined Sigrid and Tilda at the waterline, keeping her gaze intently focused on Bard’s location as she did not know if she would be able to relocate him without the aid of the Elves’ keen eyes to guide her. Tilda hid her face against Sigrid’s skirts, unable to bring herself to watch, and Sigrid had a tense hand clamped over her mouth.

In the distance, Legolas and Tauriel were closing the distance between their rowboat and Bard. Though Alaisia could not clearly see Bard, she saw well enough to know that he was struggling. His form bobbed up and down in the water, sometimes almost disappearing beneath the surface, and only made incremental progress. Alaisia thought back to the clothes Bard had been wearing when the chaos began—a heavy wool coat over multiple other layers to keep the cold at bay. Though the clothing was practical at the time, it was no doubt weighing Bard down now. It was a miracle Bard was even still afloat, especially considering that he had Bain in tow.

 _Please hurry_ , Alaisia thought of Tauriel and Legolas. Her teeth were clenched tightly, and her heart thundered in her chest as she watched. _If we lose Bard and Bain now, when Sigrid and Tilda have had a spark of hope restored, it will hurt even more._ Beyond that, Bard was a hero, and his son was too for selflessly rushing to his aid. Their actions spared the lives of many of their fellow Lake-towners. Neither deserved to perish cold and alone amid the ruins of what was once their home.

After what felt like an eternity, Tauriel and Legolas reached Bard’s position, and their arrival came not a moment too soon, for Bard slipped beneath the water just as the rowboat reached him. Alaisia watched with bated breath as Tauriel and Legolas hauled Bard and Bain on board. Legolas rowed back to shore while Tauriel stooped over Bard and Bain, no doubt inspecting their condition to determine what medical aid they might need.

The air was taught with tension as the rowboat steadily eked its way back to the shoreline. Tilda and Sigrid’s knuckles had gone a ghostly shade of white from the strength with which Bard’s daughters gripped one another’s hands.

When the boat drew near enough to see those on board more clearly, Alaisia breathed a sigh of relief. Bard was alive. He was sputtering and coughing violently, and his whole body shuddered from the cold, but he still drew breath. He finished what Girion started and emerged triumphant, and now he could take on the mantle of King of Dale as he was meant to.

Alaisia’s sense of relief diminished somewhat upon seeing Bain’s condition. The boy was pale and unconscious, his face furrowed in a frown.

“M-my son,” Bard uttered between coughs and shivers. “Water inhalation,” he gasped. “P-please help him.”

Tauriel nodded. “I will do what I can. I must first get him to stable ground.”

The red-haired Elf gathered Bain in her arms and deftly sprang from the boat onto the ground. Once she was well out of the reach of the gentle waves that lapped the land, she laid Bain down and checked his pulse.

“He still lives, but his pulse and breath are shallow. I need to compress his chest,” she explained to Sigrid and Tilda.

Oin hovered nearby, ready to help if his help was needed, but Tauriel was the more experienced healer of the two. She placed her hands on his chest and compressed it several times. At first there seemed to be little effect as Bain remained motionless on the ground. But as Tauriel kept pressing on his chest, Bain’s eyes suddenly fluttered open and he coughed violently. Tauriel and Oin helped Bain upright, and as the boy rose, he expelled a good deal of water. Bain continued heaving for a few moments until his breath evened out, and he looked at Tauriel and Oin gratefully.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes wide with the fear of having nearly perished. “Is my father alive too?”

“He is,” Legolas answered warmly, a small smile gracing his face as he walked over with Bard, supporting the man’s weight. “When we found the two of you in the water, he was trying to swim to land bearing you.”

“Da!” Bain exclaimed. He stood quickly but wavered immediately thereafter, for he was clearly still dizzy from his near drowning.

For his part, Bard appeared sore and unsteady on his feet, but his coughing had finally subsided. “Save your strength, my son. I am relieved that you are alive. And Sigrid, Tilda—thank the Valar you two are unharmed. When I looked down from the tower and saw Smaug’s destruction, I was afraid you had not made it out.”

With that, Bard embraced all three of his children, though it was briefer than Alaisia was sure the family would have liked owing to Bard and Bain still being soaking wet from the lake.

“Here, take this,” Alaisia offered her cloak to Bard and Bain, and her fellow Dwarves also offered up their cloaks.

“Will you not be cold?” Bard asked, surprised by the generous gesture.

“We will manage—we Dwarves are quite hardy against the frost,” Alaisia assured him. “Besides, you and your son need these far more than we do. I cannot thank you enough for slaying Smaug. It was a selfless act of valor, and you have protected and avenged many lives in the deed.”

Bard humbly bowed his head. “I did what I had to do to help my people. It is fortunate that the Dwarvish windlance still existed so many years after Smaug’s initial assault, for without that, I do not know that I could have vanquished the beast. Thank you for looking after my daughters as you promised.”

Ere Bard could say anymore, the townsfolk took note of his presence and began to crowd around him. Excited murmurs spread around the crowd. Some cheered, others wept with relief, and others still dipped their heads in respect to Bard. Through all of it was a sense of hope that Alaisia guessed these people had not felt in many a year, if ever.

“Bard, we thought you had fallen along with the tower!” The same man from earlier called out, delight filling his face at the sight of Bard in spite of all that had happened.

“Well met, Percy, my old friend,” Bard warmly greeted the gatekeeper. “It heartens me to see that you are well.”

Percy looked back at the crowd of townsfolk and, seeing the resolve in their faces, addressed Bard. “Bard, long have you been an advocate for the people, whether in quiet or open rebellion against the Master’s greed. We know of your heritage, and I am certain that many among us—if not all of us, for we owe you our lives—would follow you as our King. Under your rule, I am sure that even the poorest man would have more than he had during the days of the Master’s rule.”

Bard sighed and rubbed his brow, contemplating his old friend’s words. He looked weary and hesitant, and he frowned as if deep in debate with himself. After a few moments’ thought, he looked to Alaisia. She nodded at him encouragingly, attempting to convey silently that yes, he _should_ rule Dale. Alaisia felt that way not simply because of Bard’s bloodline, but also because of who he had shown himself to be. Few were born to be excellent and magnanimous rulers, and Alaisia was convinced that Bard was one of them.

Seeing Alaisia’s face, the conflict in Bard’s own expression relented. He addressed the crowd, for he knew now what he must do for the good of the people he cared so much for.

“Never have I desired to be a King,” Bard began. “Power holds no appeal to me. Duty, though, has ever guided me. Duty to my family, duty to my fellow citizens, and duty to the cause of justice. Given the circumstances we now face, I understand that it is my duty to take the crown I might otherwise have shunned. If you follow me, I promise you this: we will see Dale restored to its former glory, and all shall have safe shelter and enough food to fill their bellies. Difficult times lay ahead of us at present, but I will hold your best interests close to my heart as I work to find a path to a better future.”

A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Though his clothing was humble, Bard looked every inch the King he promised he would be, for he stood tall and proud, and in his face, there was a genuine love for his people. Slowly, all of the Lake-town refugees that had sufficient range of motion sank to one knee, and a cry broke out.

“All hail King Bard the Just!”

Bard’s eyes closed, the weight of the moment clearly hitting him, and when he opened his eyes, his face was resolute.

“Rise and prepare yourselves for the journey ahead. Winter is nigh upon us, and we must make haste for whatever shelter the ruins of Dale can offer us. We shall leave no one behind, however injured they might be.”

As his people started gathering the few belongings they escaped with, Bard turned back toward Alaisia and the others.

“I shall lead my people to Dale now, but I assume your destination is Erebor,” he said to Alaisia.

She nodded. “When we arrive there, I will see to it that you are justly compensated. We will aid you in rebuilding Dale, and Esgaroth as well if you desire to see it restored,” she vowed.

Bard inclined his head gratefully, but Legolas interjected.

“There is something you all should know,” he warned. “Ere Tauriel and I returned to Esgaroth, we went back to my father’s halls with an Orc captive. There, we questioned him and discovered that the vast army of Orcs that has been amassing in Dol Guldur under the command of the Necromancer plans to march north to Erebor. Furthermore, though Bolg escaped me, I ensnared another Orc while in pursuit of him. From that Orc, I learned grave news: there is another army, one that will come from Gundabad in the Misty Mountains.”

Tauriel hissed at the mention of Gundabad. “We must prepare for war. If two Orc armies plan to march on the Lonely Mountain, the survivors of Esgaroth are also at risk, as is the entirety of the North. My uncle was hesitant to take action before, but surely he must now see reason. All must unite to face this threat, or we shall fall together.”

Alaisia’s stomach flipped upon hearing that two Orc armies, one no doubt headed by Bolg, would soon bear down on them all. _Even with Thranduil’s forces, if_ _he deigns to aid our common cause, it sounds as if we shall be grossly outnumbered._ Her wild-spirited cousin-in-law came to mind. _We need Dain’s army as well. Even that may not be enough, but his warriors will help give us a fighting chance_.

Dain had originally offered aid if the Arkenstone were retrieved, but that condition was in relation to Smaug’s presence. Would he now offer his aid freely, Arkenstone found or not? Alaisia fervently hoped that Dain would be reasonable and that he would recognize the necessity of action, but she did not have full confidence in her cousin-in-law.

Bard grimaced at Legolas’ news. “These are ill tidings indeed. I will make haste in getting my folk to Dale and take shelter wherever we can there. Those of us who can fight will do so, though I fear our numbers might not be great. Few among us are trained in any form of combat. Beyond that, many are too old, too young, or too injured to offer much assistance.”

“Thank you, Bard,” Legolas answered, extending an arm out from his chest in a gesture of gratitude and farewell.

Shortly after the departure of Bard and his children, an Elven rider approached on horseback, his pale brown hair streaming behind him as he approached.

“Galedir!” Tauriel greeted him, her face filled with surprise. “Do you bring word from my uncle?”

“I do, my lady,” Galedir confirmed, though he remained on his horse. “I ride ahead of King Thranduil’s host. He heard of the felling of Smaug and the destruction of Lake-town, and he is now marching north with armies and provisions.”

“I am glad to hear of it,” Legolas replied. “Galedir, is my father displeased with Tauriel and I for departing without his blessing?”

“He was displeased, though his displeasure took the form of grief and worry for your safety rather than anger at your disobedience of his orders. I am certain that the King will be relieved to learn that you are still alive, for he feared you might have been slain in the firestorm that swept Esgaroth.”

A flicker of relief passed over the faces of Legolas and Tauriel, though with it came a hint of guilt over causing Thranduil such worry.

“Will you return with Galedir to King Thranduil?” Alaisia asked the two Elves.

Kili watched anxiously and searched Tauriel’s face for any sign of an answer. The female Elf blushed on seeing Kili’s worry and gave him a subtle smile that reached her eyes. She looked at Legolas next, and the two nodded at each other.

“We will follow the original plan as set out in the agreement between King Thranduil and the Dwarves,” Tauriel declared. “We will accompany Queen Alaisia and her fellow Dwarves to Erebor, and there we will retrieve the Gems of Lasgalen. Tell my uncle that Bard has taken up his rightful lordship over Dale and that the refugees are bound for that destination,” she instructed Galedir.

“Indeed, and please also tell my father that another army is marching toward us—one from Gundabad,” Legolas gravely declared.

Galedir visibly flinched upon hearing the name Gundabad spoken, and Alaisia wondered if he, too, had lost loved ones in that battle long ago, or if he had been present there.

“I will, my lord,” Galedir confirmed. He spurred his horse into a gallop and set out to meet Thranduil’s host.

“We should leave now,” Alaisia muttered, her eyes drifting to the boat they escaped Lake-town in. “Let us take the boat, for crossing the water will be much faster than traveling by land.”

Legolas nodded and murmured something in Elvish to his horse. The horse _neighed_ as if it understood him and set out after Galedir at a gallop. With that, the Dwarves and Elves clambered aboard the rowboat and entered the waters of the Long Lake once more. It did not escape Alaisia’s notice that Tauriel and Kili sat next to each other, nor did it escape Alaisia’s notice that the two reached for one another’s hands. The sight brought a smile to her face, and she thought back to her ancestors Celebrimbor and Nalonis, daughter of Narvi. They had to conceal their love for one another and were never wed. As Alaisia observed the budding love of Kili and Tauriel, joyful and pure amid so much death and destruction, she hoped that these two would be able to embrace their love more openly.

Yet these lighter thoughts fled Alaisia’s mind when the boat drew nigh to the northern shore of the Long Lake and she saw Erebor looming in the distance. She dreaded what was to come, what she would find when she entered the Mountain. With a heavy heart, she exited the boat and trudged up the slope before her, slowly placing one foot in front of the other. Her fellow Dwarves matched her languid pace, each no doubt bearing the same dread she carried in her heart, and the two Elves were gracious enough to slow their pace as well. Neither Elf spoke a word, for neither wished to inadvertently aggravate the hurt the Dwarves felt. Tauriel continued to hold Kili’s hand openly as they walked, and Alaisia saw that Tauriel’s companionship brought Kili some strength.

Nothing could have prepared Alaisia for what she saw when she reached the top of the incline.

Below her, nestled down in the vale near Erebor, was the city of Dale—or what was left of it, at any rate. Though Alaisia experienced its destruction firsthand, and though she had long envisioned the aftermath of that destruction, the reality was far worse than what she had ever imagined. Where once a vibrant city filled with orchards and joy and _life_ stood, there was now only a charred, blackened shell. Dale’s towers, originally constructed in warmer hues, were now ashen gray from fire and smoke. Gaping holes existed where there were once grand buildings, and the buildings that had not been utterly destroyed were crumbling and decaying. The city walls were snow-kissed and bleak.

The sight of it felt like a punch to the gut. Alaisia nearly turned away, for she was not certain she could stomach looking at the corpse of the city she loved any longer, her nightmares rendered real. But she remembered that if she turned away, she would simply see the ruins of Lake-town, another town smote by Smaug. Instead of turning aside, Alaisia sunk to her knees on the cold, hard stone that crowned the overlook and let out a scream. Into that scream she poured all of her heartbreak, grief, and fury over the death and devastation brought by Smaug. No sound answered her amid the desolation, not even the cry of a bird, and her scream echoed in the emptiness ere it subsided.

Alaisia stared numbly at Dale until she felt a steadying hand on her shoulder. She tore her eyes away from the desolation below and looked up to see Oin looking down at her kindly. He squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, his face filled with sorrow of his own. After a calming silence in which Alaisia took several soothing breaths, she felt the worst of her fury recede.

“You are our Queen, lass,” Oin solemnly spoke, “take the time you need, and then we shall follow you to Erebor.”

Alaisia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I am ready,” she whispered. _At least, as ready as I shall ever be,_ she mentally added.

With nary a further word, Alaisia rose to her feet. Her legs felt as if they were filled with lead weights, but in truth there was no time to dwell on her despair. Two armies of Orcs were coming, and she needed as much time as possible to prepare her kingdom to face them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...that was an emotionally intense chapter to write. I'm gonna go curl up with some hot cocoa and a good blanket, then I'll get back to work on the next chapter. In Chapter 24, Alaisia and her companions will reach Erebor. We're drawing near to the end of this long tale now. There are at least 3 more chapters still including Chapter 24, which I'll be able to post in a couple of weeks. Chapter 24 will be the longest chapter yet. 
> 
> Translations for Elvish phrases below:  
> mellon nin = my friend  
> nethig = little sister
> 
> *Chapter 26 of the first part of this series discusses the significance of Gundabad for Legolas and Tauriel.


End file.
